Scrooge the sellout

I have delayed posting this blog, mainly because I didn’t want to bring down the Christmas traditionalists with my views but I’ve just got to get this off my chest. And you don’t care now anyway, secretly you are glad Christmas is over, if it went on any longer you might have had a food related heart attack or had to be rushed to A&E with alcohol poisoning – January is doing us all a favour.
  
So allow me to rip a Christmas favourite to shreds; I’ve got beef with Dickens and his vomit inducing tale. And I’m not keeping it in any longer. 

First of all, Scrooge was much more interesting and likeable when he was telling everyone to fuck off. He was miserable but he was being himself; I admired him for his straight talking ways. He was right, people do use Christmas for their own selfish purposes and self indulgence – he had the balls to say it, everyone else was just pretending they were having a good time. 

In fact, Scrooge totally let me down. He falls for the Ghost of Christmas Present’s bullshit propaganda – ‘look what you are missing out on’ and he absolutely bought it. Idiot! Scrooge, I lost all respect for you. 

Take Mrs Cratchit. She had one crappy Christmas. Not only was she cooking all day, the behaviour of her children when she dished up the dinner was disgusting, beating their knives and forks on the table until she put their dinners in front of them? I would have put it all in the bin, or on their heads. Little shits. You’ll get your dinner when I’m ready – shut your mouths, you ungrateful brats. 

I blame Bob. Spineless Bob, walk all over me Bob. And while we’re about it Bob, your job is pretty low paid. You know it, I know it. Bob, you don’t even have an oven in your house, for God’s sake, you can’t afford it. Funny then why you think it’s a good idea to keep impregnating your wife, Bob. How many kids have you got? Jeez, Bob, maybe if you could control yourself you wouldn’t have to stretch your ropey salary over such a massive family. Be responsible for fuck’s sake. 

Scrooge, your contempt was totally justified. 

And on the subject of uncontrollable hormone raging men, what about Topper? What the hell was he doing at Scrooge’s nephew’s house? He runs around feeling up Scrooge’s nephew’s wife’s sister under the guise of playing Blind Man’s Buff. Poor Scrooge’s nephew’s wife’s sister can’t get away, he gets her in the corner, Dickens described his behaviour as being ‘vile’ and ‘monstrous’ but even he sounds like he’s getting off on Topper molesting the ‘plump’ Scrooge’s nephew’s wife’s sister. Yeah, we hear you Dickens, she had a lot to grab hold of, nice one Topper, nice bit of sexual assault, ha ha, Christmas is such fun! Nothing like using Christmas as an excuse to commit indecent assault (see Scrooge – people do use Christmas for their own purposes). He missed out the part where Topper handed her a pint of rohypnol, probably the same jug of gin and lemons that Cratchit was pouring down Mrs C’s neck after dinner. Shame the kids drank it too really. What actually was Martha’s job anyway? Ask Bob, he sorted it out. 

And what about Fred’s wife? She was massively pissed off that day. No one seemed to notice. She wouldn’t get up and join in with anything. Sat on her arse in the corner with a foot stool, Dickens said she was ‘snug’ – bored shitless more like.  She obviously wasn’t having that great a Christmas either. Maybe having to hang out with Fred’s bezzie, the sex offender, brought it down a bit. Either that or the irritation of having to agree with everything Fred said and laugh every time he guffawed. What she really wanted to say was – “Fred, just shut up will you? That inane laugh is doing everyone’s head in. And one more thing – you said you aren’t bothered about your uncle coming round so stop going on about it. You’ve been talking about it all day. Why are you so obsessed with him? Get it over it, will you.”

This leads me to conclude that the women of this so called festive tale have one massively crap Christmas. Maybe if the ghosts had been women they might have pointed this out. Even Ignorance is given more importance than Want. ‘Yeah this is Want, she has a shit life but check out Ignorance, he is the future.’ Even the men are prioritised in metaphor and prophecy. 

Scrooge, you think you were doing the Cratchits a favour by getting them that massive turkey at the end. Did you not consider that the ‘prize’ beast you sent in a cab to Camden probably needed to be cooked for eight hours straight? It wasn’t even plucked yet! You sent it round about nine/ ten o’clock? You have no idea how many hours of cutlery banging Mrs C had to endure while she defeathered, prepared and cooked that monster. 

You should have sent her a vat of wine and an IUD instead. 

To the ladies of ACC – I feel your pain. 
Thank fuck it’s over for another year. 

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