It’s here again, yet another Xmas to witness and one spare casket without my name on it. This is now my 3rd Swedish Xmas away from old Blighty and of course how can I not miss England’s Xmas cheers with the humble Queen Elizabeth the seconds little face on my TV set, oh Britain.
But here I am about to embrace another wild Swedish Xmas here in the land of IKEA and, meatballs, mmm those delicious meatballs. The tree is still standing surprisingly as kids and trees (fake trees in this instance) don’t go hand in hand. All the presents are wrapped by my elf assistant, ready to be opened tomorrow, the Swedish Xmas day but Xmas eve for Britain and a whole ton of other ordinary boring countries that aren’t good enough to celebrate on the 24th, humbugs in my rather extremely comfortable bed, and I mean that in the most heterosexual way you could ever imagine.
Unfortunately today we have had an intruder, this specific intruder has intruded too many times before but this time he has really taken the biscuit, the common cold, you bastardo, why now? It’s Xmas you evil Mexican bull baiting son of a bitch. Fevers galore in here today, my throat feels like it’s witnessed Krueger grip.
We received another box today from my Father, if you are reading this thank you for that and merry Xmas to you!!
Anyway that Abba espresso is wearing off, it’s time to sleep, Santa’s coming soon… Night night.