It’s the hottest day of the year.
28 degrees Celsius and it's September—in Ireland.
I pop into Tesco—folks in shorts and not much else buy ice lollies and cold drinks.
Standard.
We quite happily bunk off work for 18 degrees and partly cloudy.
Then I spot him.
The greedy bastard
Yes, that’s right.
Santa crashed the joint.
It’s not enough that he’s got merch lines and licensing deals that make Disney look like a pack of amateurs.
Not enough that he’s got a one-man marketing hoopla from October to December.
Halloween and Thanksgiving never stood a chance.
Now he wants to crash the nation's barbecue?
Not acceptable.
Nope.
No can do.
Not on my watch.
What a showy fecker.
Thinking it's all about him.
Surprise!
I hate surprises.
In my world, mate, you don't show up until the Macy's Day parade has wrapped.
Until then, sling your hook.
We've got a summer to catch up on.
NOTE: The purchase of the chocolate Santa was made purely for illustrative purposes.
Of course.
Wanted: A Word with Santa
Sorry, I'm not buying this faux Santa rage. I know you're counting off the days till Xmas FM launches (Nov 28th fyi)
Apologies if you received multiple 'subscribe' entreaties on your newsletter. Between my Parkinson's tremor and Santa rage, my fingers were running ramshackle on the keyboard. Oh, and Mercury is in Retrograde.