Well, I'm sure that you are all dying to know what I was given for Christmas...
The uninspiring answer is: lots of jaw-aching, almost absurdly boring books (one on Victorian PMs and another on correct grammar usage... I kid you not, unfortunately!) Importantly though, I negotiated a truce with a good friend which guaranteed neither party would present the other with a gift on the day, thereby staving off the demons of both enmity and poverty and sparing a big scene at his flat when I turned up empty-handed.
The trouble is- and I'm beginning to empathise with the leaders of tin-pot regimes round the world- he did not respect the terms of the treaty. Luckily, I received word of the planned breach the day before (a direct call from the man himself stating, in no uncertain terms, that he had bought me a present and I was to get him one, too) total disaster was therefore avoided, although, unfortunately, not poverty. 'Tis the season to be out of pocket.
Boy, what a present though!
It is not something I have described on the blog for fear of reprisals but for the last few months I have been frequently chased and generally intimidated by a horrible gang. The severe dropping off of posts in recent weeks may be attributed to my despair at my inability even to walk home at night without molestation by these awful, awful fiends! That they are of the species Vulpes vulpes (or fox) should be of no concern to the general reader.
My friend, aware of my midnight tribulations- usually suffered when struggling back from his flat in town, after all- generously provided me with a big, fat WMD that is, ostensibly, to be used to dissuade unwelcome animals from attempting to use two of their five senses ever again! I am staying with my parents at the moment and, unfortunately, didn't bring the thing with me so you'll have to rely on my slightly hazy post-Christmas recollection of the device for the moment... Trust me that I am not exaggerating when I say that it is a chunky pistol which both fires a laser and emits the kind of supersonic screech that forces good guys to the floor in superhero movies. One of the unintended bonuses of this gadget is that you get to pretend you are Lex Luthor on your walk home!
After just one such late-night sojourn (and on that same Christmas night, no less) my politics have shifted completely. Holding the thing, I began to agree with Tony Martin and the general philosophy of the NRA. Man has a right to self-defence... at least against these bastard foxes! The town variety aren't even scared of human beings anymore- until they realise you are packing heat, that is!
It is my theory, furthermore, that they are on the move! For the moment, they are massing in the council estates and cul-de-sacs of the suburbs but this will not content them! First they attack our bins but it will not be long before they EAT an entire human being! We must ready ourselves!
So take a leaf out of my friend's book and get your loved ones some sort of anti-fox blasting protection today and set about reclaiming suburbia from this vicious pestilence!!!
Merry Christmas!
Opinion and analysis from a student at, what was, the 93rd best academic institution in the whole United Kingdom
Saturday, 27 December 2008
About Me
- N.F. Hampton
- An aspiring writer trapped in the never-ending suburbs at the edge of G. London