Anti-Christ's Mass

So that's Crass Mess all finally over and only 364 shopping days left until the next one! I'm going to tell you what I've been up to since the last posting. After working in sub-zero temperatures during the day my nights have been packed with far more festive fare! Thursday night saw the annual Treeton Towers drink-a-thon at my local. The whole night was given a special festive sparkle when a fight erupted between Deveaux and Bennett which involved drinks being tossed across the room, karate chops to the neck, effeminate punches thrown and Bennett screaming 'Get him out of here, he hasn't even got a proper name!' It was akin to the misdemeanors of Kid Rock and altercations outside of a Waffle House, you can't get much more redneck than my Rovrum mates. Paul was calmed and sent home covered in beer and, allegedly, his own shit whilst Bennett was left to lament his bite marks and collapsed wind pipe. Funny how it was only the terminally unemployed ones that ended up scrapping... It also marred the arrival of Pettigrew in the village after an eighteen year absence.

'It's my round!'

'No, it's my round!'

Christ's Mass Eve was spent in the company of the family at large, drinking copious amounts to dull the pain of the afternoon. This was followed up on Christ's Mass day with a trip out to Mr and Mrs Cat's for the now famous annual quiz. This generally revolves around sport, so this makes it pretty tough for me, but given that the rest of the family have difficulty writing their own names, I tend to come out somewhere on top. Last year's quiz was under suspicion due to claims of cheating, with little Tommy aledgedly feeding answers to his dad, Darren. This year, precautions had been put in place to stop such nonsense. Tommy was tied up to a pole in the back garden. I came second, due to a tie-breaker situation, with my mother winning outright. We kept the prize in the family at least. My prize? A bag of vacuum packed dead robins:

Om Nom Nom

Christ's Mass wouldn't be Christ's Mass without cards and this year was no exception. I got the usual amount of abusive cards from various friends, mostly with the words FUCK and OFF printed somewhere either on the outside or inside of the card. But the best by far were the two I received on Christ's Mass Eve from Justin and the Evil Herr Docktor Clay. I really have difficulty deciding which I like best. I like Justin's for its homemade qualities and I like John's for its thoughtfulness. I'll allow you to decided which you prefer.
Justin's card, made from a cheep lager box:

John's card, note the added beard, glasses and attention drawn to the feet of the character:

John's card interior.

And speaking of Clay, on a final note here is a text message I receievd from him on Christ's Mass eve:

It's christmas eve and i'm wandering around homebase in a raincoat with a bottle of sherry. Is this the shape of things to come?