Now, you're probably busy reading lots of blogger wishlists at this time of year - the sex bloggers asking for the kinds of toys only elves over 18 can make, the mummy bloggers asking for a good night's sleep, the political bloggers asking for change, the cookery bloggers asking for the kind of gadgets the sex bloggers wouldn't mind a go on and so forth. Still, I hope you can find time to read through a satirical anti-sex-blogger's list of festive desires and consider emptying your bulging sacks into my stocking come Christmas Eve.
This year, for Christmas, I would like:
- A pair of hold up stockings that actually hold up and don't roll down my pillowy thighs at inconvenient moments or, failing that:
- A pair of tights that fit the tall, full figured woman so that the crotch does not sit at knee level, leading to amusing yet undignified hobbling, and the waist band does not come up to one's armpits. (Who are these garments designed for - is it you, Santa?)
- A drum kit.
- Big, comfortable pants that are also alluring.
- Pubic hair to come back into fashion.
- Stroppy, fat, older women to come back into fashion.
- A Scalextric.
- An Indian Head Massage or a Nit Nurse of my very own.
- The salt, sugar and fat content to be reinstated to my favourite convenience foods. Bloody food police. My roast beef flavoured Monster Munch were crap without all the salt and E numbers. Ditto my Cup-a-Soup. I buy these things for a reason. If I wanted the healthy option I'd have bought an orange. Thank fuck for booze.
- Wine, and lots of it.
If you could see your way to granting me even just one or two of these requests I would be immensely grateful and won't drink your sherry and abuse the carrots for the reindeer before you get here this year.
Yours in anticipation,