Happy New Year, Mother Fuckers.

As we all settle down to this new year and reminisce over those portions of our christmas/ new years period we might actually want Joe Public to read about ......... O.K., so as I settle down to do so, I thought I might just take a quiet moment to reflect on the strangeness of mother fucker as a term of abuse. Why, dear reader, should shagging a mother be considered so bad, I asks you? Almost everyone's father is a mother fucker, for christ's sake. A great many of us will end up being mother fuckers some day in such a circumstance as not being considered a mother fucker would be thought of as somewhat insulting. What's the deal?

Not happy, slang makers!

Well, Anyways, moving along........... I'd just like to voice my bitter resentment at the world at large that, despite my ridiculously non-subtle hint-dropping about wanting a certain novel by one Ulrich Haarbuste for christmas¹, a copy of this book failed to appear gift-wrapped in my hands at any point at all. Of the things that did appear in my greedy little hand in such a manner, however, there is one that deserves mention. Allow me to do so.

The present in question was given to me by an uncle who, presumably owing to the fact that he purchases gifts for possibly every human being he has ever met², is continually out-doing himself for the pure shite-ness of his gifts to the point that you actually find yourself in far more excited anticipation over his presents than over anybody else's³. When my sweaty, shaking hands ripped open my package this year⁴, I beheld the following. Imagine a clear plastic window sitting atop black cardboard packaging on which is written, in the same font as those top-secret stamps you see on folders in B-movies, the words Men at Work. What, I ask you dear reader, might you suppose to be inside such a package? A CD of music from the 1980's perhaps? A copy of Brokeback Mountain? Bzzzt. Sorry, but if you guessed one of the above, you have guessed incorrectly. The answer you should have given is a list of the three most important items any working man should have in his possesion, which (as I should scarcely need to add) is as follows.

1. A tube of shower gel, strange-smelling.
2. A pair of sweat-bands for your wrists, Men-At-Work emblazoned.
3. A pack of cards, witty-backing.

For the inclusion of a deck of cards alone ........ hmm, no ...... for the deck of cards exclusively, this would be arguably the best present I have ever recieved from the man. What makes it unquestionably the greatest gift ever is the picture on the back of said cards. Here we see a man wearing the kind of expression which might say "did I leave the oven on?". With one hand he is loosening his tie. With the other, he holds a cloth on his fore-head in a manner which gives absolutely no impression of movement at all. Below this picture we find the following caption: Feverishly mopping his brow, he glanced down to see that everything he owned was on the table. He could handle losing the wife .... but the car? Assuming you've now managed to get that side-splitting laughter under control, dear reader, it is now my melancholy duty to inform you that, no, I have absolutely no idea where the fuck you would go about buying this product. Possibly in the same dusty little shop you'd purchase mogwais or something. I just don't know. Wherever it is, however, it seems likely to be the same shop my uncle shops in every year. There are probably sundry other things I could be saying about the time-frame in question but this will, I think, do as a "no, I'm not dead" post. I should probably also just mention for anyone unaware of this that I ended up getting the scholarship and, while I haven't booked the ticket yet, I'll be leaving for New Zealand fairly soon. The point being that, while I think I have a solid repetoire of sheep jokes under my belt in preparation, I could always use more. If you know a good one, let me know.

¹What part of "please, please, please, please please get me the Roy Orbison wrapped in cling-film novel" is so fucking hard for you bastards to understand?

²Not actually that much of an exaggeration.....

³ Who will win the crappest present of the year this time around? Sometimes the anticipation is a little much for me......

⁴Yes this sentence is intended as google-whoring.