I’ve just seen a cartoon gift box ‘rapping’* about Christmas on New Zealand television.
I’ve seen an electric machine that catches many, many snapper while the family sit in directors’ chairs, looking on impatiently.
I’ve seen adult onesies. Nothing new, I know. Doesn’t anyone have sex anymore?
I’ve seen mobile phones for $14.
I’ve seen Mike Puru on the Yesshop channel, peddling personal lubricants. Willingly. Knowingly.
I’ve worked up to the last minute. I have done no Christmas shopping yet.
The hams have been out in the shops since October 1.
I don’t have ham.
I’ve seen car yards with tinsel strewn about. Brilliant ploy. I’m there!
The salesmen want to talk turkey with me about a Mazda 6 for 2015.
I don’t have turkey.
The supermarkets show their true colours by lining the entrance way with chemical trails of sugar that the kids can’t ignore.
In my mind is an image of a pohutukawa tree. Maybe I saw it on a biscuit tin up at Countdown next to the kilt ones, or maybe we all need a breather.
I want to sit under one with the Paul Young intro of Do They Know it’s Christmas in my ears because I’m not offended.
I have no turkey. I have no ham.
Have a very Merry Christmas lovely readers. Take some rest.
*Yes, I realize this was a pun, and an unfunny one at that.