I'm not really one for chocolate. Neither am I one for spending money on useless shit like advent calendars. This year however, my significant other thought I needed to cheer the fuck up and get in the spirit of Christmas...so she bought me a Cadbury advent calendar. For those unfamiliar with the notion of an advent calendar, here's the premise: take a piece of card, cut flaps in it and then write a number on each flap (1 - 24) to represent the days of December up until Christmas Eve. On the morning (or afternoon - your choice) of each day, you open another flap. Inside the flap is usually some festive scene or a poem...or as in this case, a tiny piece of chocolate in the form of a reindeer's face. Here's a photo of my advent calendar:
I opened up flap number 3 this morning and devoured the chocolate with a ferocity approaching Jurassic Park velociraptor levels. It gave me a sharp pain in one of my teeth because I think I've got a hole or something developing back there. I didn't enjoy this pain and I cursed my own pseudo-festive gluttony, but I know for a fact that upon rising from my pit in the morning there's a 98% chance I'll rip open flap number 4 and repeat this morning's episode. That's because, unlike Pavlov's dog I never learn from my stupid, stupid mistakes. The picture on the front is quite Christmassy as far as pictures go - there's Santa dry-humping a sparsely decorated evergreen while Rudolf gets himself tangled in some fairy lights (fucking idiot). There also appear to be two elves hiding in a box containing massive chocolate renderings of Santa's own head. Santa doesn't appear to have noticed this though, or the fact that the fire in the background is roaring dangerously out of control. Also, why is Santa putting the tree up? Surely he can get the elves to do that while he reclines in a La-Z-Boy and sips Jack Daniels? What the fuck kind of operation is the child-worrying old fool running here? Mind: boggling.
Turning the calendar over reveals a full 'Christmas Team' bio, which states that the two elves are named, rather unconvincingly, Lloyd and Esther. Esther also appears to be suffering from red eye. The reindeer is called Rudy and his favourite sport is 'extreme sledging.' Santa is described as having a 'big laugh to match his belly,' but looking at him, this Santa looks fitter than most middle aged blokes - he's probably only got a 34" waist judging by these images. Something doesn't quite add up there. Maybe he keeps fit by doing an improbable number of sit ups in front of that raging inferno in the hearth, his rippling, sweat-soaked six-pack glimmering in the orange half-light while Rudy gets tangled in the fairy lights and lies there quivering and covered in his own faeces as Esther and Lloyd repeatedly skull fuck Clyde the snowman with his own carrot nose outside in the cold, dark garden. This is only hypothetical, you understand.