The Bloody Hell Brennan Guide to Christmas
Well FESTIVE GREETINGS and a fa la la la la la la la LA to all of you dear hearts. Apologies for the radio silence over here at Bloody Hell Brennan, my brain and soul is firmly wedged in the thick of panto land and it’s proving difficult to get anything done. (Do spare a thought for all the actors out there slogging it out in panto- I blew my nose the other day and glitter came out. No joke. It’s like when you’re in London and you blow your nose and black snot comes out, but just camper.)
BUT I thought I’d take time out from growing beanstalks and slaying giants during Act two today to bring some Merry Musings to you all, so here’s the
BLOODY HELL BRENNAN GUIDE TO CHRISTMAS!
December the 1st is fine. Any earlier and you are too much of a keen bean mate. Don’t be that prick who has Father Christmas abseiling off your satellite dish on November the 6th. You’re better than that.
I truly abhor that balls rule that says trees should all be colour-coordinated. Nahhhhhhhhh mate. Don’t Trinny and Susannah your bloody tree, it is a CHRISTMAS TREE. It should look like Father Christmas drank all the sherry and vommed on it. The more tat the better.
The ADVENT CALENDERS
Essential. I always try to kid myself that I am being really healthy by not getting a chocolate one, but in truth I just always end up feeling really mugged off by my own advent calender so eat twice as many mince pies to make up for it.
I would marry someone in a second if they one year bought me this GIN ADVENT CALENDER. Ginvent. The true spirit of Christmas. Which brings me onto…
By all means have good intentions of buying exotic ingredients and liqueurs to make festively seasonal cocktails (like these) but know deep down that you’ll probably just sack it off and end up with a pint of gin and tonic or just putting a straw in a bottle of Amaretto and going for gold.
Here is a snap that was sent to me by my family. I think we’re ready for Christmas. Although Mum followed it up by making sure I was aware she has another Sainsburys delivery coming on Monday. May I also just point out, it’s only the four of us this Christmas. LADSLADSLADSLADS.
In our family we controversially don’t have a roast on Christmas Day. I KNOW WE ARE HEATHENS. But we figure, it’s not fair for someone to have to spend most of their Christmas Day slaving like Dobby over a hot stove whilst the rest of us attach ourselves up to a drip feed of prosecco, so instead, we have something simpler to put together but also decadent and delicious. Last year we had fillet steak with triple cooked chips; this year I’m told the menu is home-made pies (Dad’s got a pastry fetish at the moment).
On another pastry note, mince pies are fair game at all times. Someone told me that it’s considered traditional good luck to eat a mince pie every day of December. Not such good news for the size of my arse but tres good luck for my mood. MINCE PIES MAKETH MERRY.
Don’t be a bellend and leave all the Bountys in the bottom of the Celebrations. Just don’t, yeah?
Buy the Christmas edition of the Radio Times every single year and know the best fun you’ll have is to comb through it circling all the things you will inevitably forget to Sky Plus.
I’m literally not even willing to argue about it. The Muppet Christmas Carol is clearly the best Christmas movie of all time. IT’S GOT EVERYTHING. It’s funny. It’s tear-jerking (TINY TIM IS A TINY OFF-GREEN FROG). It’s got great songs. And also I’m sort of a bit worried that I fancy the Ghost of Christmas Present. I think it’s the beard.
As much as along with every other person in the entire world I adore Fairytale of New York please can I recommend an alternative Christmas album? Each year the only album on in our house is Herb Alpert and his Tijuana Brass Band at Christmas. It’s so naff it’s just brilliant. LISTEN:
Endeavour to scour trinkety Christmas markets and independent boutiques for those perfect Christmas offerings- but know that it’s okay if you end up bulk ordering on Amazon too. We’re all guilty there.
These days there is no escaping the Christmas Jumper. This item of fashion has risen more quickly than the beanstalk at the end of Act One. (Cue loads of beanstalk erecting jokes. WHEYYY GET YOUR BEANSTALK OUT FOR THE GIRLS.Anyway…) I have two. One ironically shit so it looks kind of stylish in a try-hard scandi kind of way, and one that makes me look like a total bellend. Guess which one this is:
It’s a bit rubbish sometimes being alone at Christmas. It seems sometimes that Christmas is designed purely for couples, to frolic on ice skates underneath the glimmer of the lights from Somerset House, to lazily have sex in front of a roaring fire on Christmas morning, supping cups of overpriced mulled wine whilst wandering round Winter Wonderland, whilst you’re there fending off another year’s worth of well-meaning relatives asking about why you’re still single (and inevitably attempting to make your career sound like it’s going better than it is) but know this dear hearts. Christmas is a time for family and friends as much as being part of a couple, so if you’re feeling a tad glum at not having a special someone to pull a cracker with you, then my advice would be to grab a big old drink, dive headfirst into the cheeseboard and toast the year to come with your best gaggle of people around you. And just think, one of the true blessings of being single at Christmas is not having to be described at a cringey office works party as someone’s ‘better half/missus/the old ball and chain’ and never having to refer to someone as ‘the boy/boyf/hubby or (worst of all) hubster’.
I absolutely hope you all have a belting Christmas folks. Go spoil your cherished ones, get smacked off your tits on baileys, eat all the meat and all the quality streets, sing GLORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIA with vim and vigour at every opportunity, wear santa hats and comedy tinsel ties, don flimsy paper hats in all colours of the rainbow, boo and hiss and cheer at your local panto, snog someone handsome under the mistletoe and be generous and open-hearted to everyone big and small. As Fred, nephew of Ebenezer spiritedly says of Christmas, “though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it.” He was wise.
Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.
Now let’s go and sort the fuck out of 2014.