Ego Sum Lux Mundi

Last night was the traditional turning on of the Christmas lights in the village, that along with the traditional burning the effigy of Baby Jesus in a giant Wickerman. Since nailing the fucker to a cross didn't work and he rose from the dead, the village committee decided it would be better to ritually burn him. But only after a load of naked Maypole dancing and Drawing Down the Moon of course... We're nothing if not proudly Pagan here in South Yorkshire.

O, Lord! O, Jesus Christ!

We duly trudged through the six feet of snow to the village centre along with what seemed like the entire population of the village and awaited the light up. As we were waiting Whiston Brass Band entertained us with their renditions of what sounded like Christ's Mess tunes. But with the smashing noise from all the bottles flying at them it was difficult to pick out any particular tune. Mind you the mosh pit that kicked off down the front seemed pretty fierce. Gypsies had gathered on the outskirts of the crowd and were fleecing people like there was no tomorrow with rat poisoned candy floss and cuddly toys stuffed with knives. Then Seven O'clock rolled round and the Methodist church up the road smugly lit up their crucifix while the organisers faffed around trying to find a socket for the plugs in the centre of the village. With the sockets located the lights came on and the crowd released a community 'Ooooh!'. Myself and the family beat a hasty retreat to the local pub to celebrate Festivus before the crowd turned ugly and the whole thing descended into a drunken orgy of violence as it does every year. The rest of the night is pretty blurred, the one thing I do remember is doing a multicolour yawn into the toilet at some ungodly hour, so I must have had fun I guess...

Whiston before the lights... Very Dull...


Whiston after the lights... Still Dull...

Speaking of Christ's Mess and lights, it appears to be that time of year that the great unwashed, terminally unemployed and assorted peasantry decide to try to kid you into thinking they have money that they don't have with vulgar displays of material wealth. Here are a couple of examples from around my area. I shall try to find more to show you as the Season to be Jolly rolls on...


This is as close as I could get to this one, but the glare is still apparent through the trees. The garden was full of lights as was the three walls of the house.


As shown here, this is the front of the same house. The lights from this house were so bright, as I drove towards it I had to avoid a four car pile up that had been caused by the glare from these lights.


This house was over the road from the previous two photos and if there was a neighbourly competition going on, then, boy, these guys were losing it. As I was taking this picture a man appeared from the house next door and aggressively asked me why I was taking pictures of his house. The unemployed and down trodden obviously have a lot to hide. I told him I was taking pictures of the lights cos I liked them and this seemed to sway his anger. So never say I don't risk my life for your entertainment. It was just like combat photography, I tell thi. I think it must have been what Robert Capa was going through on the Normandy Beaches.

Closer to home I found these beauties:


Yes, even in a fairly affluent area people still feel the need to show off their material wealth. When the owner of this little display turns on the power the lights of Sheffield dim for a second. The National Grid records a flicker not unlike when people turn on the kettle during the advert break of X Factor.


Note the tasteful placing of the Santa statue in this cornucopia of Christmas themes. Nothing says how much you like Jesus' Birthday more than a fucking eight foot plastic Santa. The lights burning in the bedroom window will ensure these people don't get a wink of sleep during the entire Festive period.

And finally, here is the Motherlode:


The light from this display was so bright that I burned an image of it permanently onto my retina when I looked through the view finder of my camera. It is like staring into the centre of the sun. The light from this house confuses aeroplanes attempting to land at Leeds/Bradford Airport. Along with the Great Wall of China it is the only other human structure that can be seen from space. I have shown this house before in an older blog I used to write, but it appears that it gets bigger and brighter with every passing year. The trumpeting angel is a new, and some may say, tasteful, addition to the display. It really brings home the true story of Christ's Mess. Nothing truly says JESUS like a massive electricity bill come January.