I’m now back after a long hiatus due to the unforeseen Christmas arc that my character had (for example, celebrations) that resulted in no work for, like, a million years. As the champion of the people, Quarry’s poet laureate, and Liverpool’s least busy writer, it felt apt to give you all an update of what I’ve been up to over the festive period, instead of doing anything actually substantial.
Christmas is a time of love and celebration, a time of winding down, and I thought we could all share the mundanity by detailing to you a few of the silly little activities I got up to.
Killing a turkey with my bare hands
This year was my first year of Christmas whilst not being a vegetarian in about five years. It’d been so long that I’d totally forgotten the grand christmas tradition of having to murder the turkey with your bare hands in the most depraved way possible before gobbling it. With 2023 being the Year of the Rabbit, naturally, it was my turn to brutalise the turkey.
I went to Old McDonald’s (P.H.D) farm and selected the biggest fattest turkey I could, before launching myself onto its grimy, feathered back and placing both my hands around its neck. I throttled it for sometime before turning and noticing the Five True Farmers watching me, disgraced by my cowardice. It was at that point I clambered off its behind, retrieved my Christmas Hatchet Ax, and whacked both of its legs off in one fell swoop.
The fat bird, now legless, lay on the ground, gobbling in pain, as I walked slowly back to my mum's car to get the keg of boiling hot oil she leaves in the boot. When I got there I was upset to see Mother had drunk half the keg of boiling hot oil. Ordinarily, I wouldn't let this slide, but seeing as it was Christmas, I allowed the pig of a woman to enjoy her festive fats.
“Mum,” I shouted to the front of the vehicle, “Remember to refill the oil barrel tomorrow.” She didn’t hear me as her head lay unconscious on the steering wheel, drunk. When I got back to my partially dismembered turkey I instantly doused it in the hot oil, charring its feathers and skin whilst keeping it still alive. The screams it released were horrific and have tormented my dreams since.
A few more long-distance shurikens to the neck and its head came clean off. The Five True Farmers nodded in approval and I gave them each a gift of Jewellery upon leaving. We got back to my house and cooked the turkey and it was absolutely delicious. It wasn’t dry like some turkeys are. Actually, it was really moist. We were all thrilled, and considered it a successful Christmas, even though the day had only just begun!
The “Yule Log”
I don’t know about you, but in our house, every Christmas, the thing on everyone’s mind is the “Yule Log”. No one knows when he’ll make an appearance, but each year, the tension is unbearable. Perhaps we’ll endure the “Yule Log” in the evening. Perhaps he will arrive at night. He’s been known even to schedule his arrival for dusk. This year, he came around 7:30PM.
The whole family shook visibly upon his arrival. A cloud of purple gas surrounded us all and his presence was made clear. The “Yule Log” was more abrasive this year than the last. My mum was killed by him, only to be reborn on Christmas Eve, the day prior to Christmas. None of us gained any perspective in the way we did last year. My sisters lay face down on the ground the entire time the “Yule Log” was in our presence.
I’d bitten off more than I could chew and confronted him. He spoke in a series of images, each image a spoiler for a major plot point of The Wire. I was transported back to the Wacky Warehouse that I spent my fifth birthday in. The ceilings were much higher than they were when I was a child, and all the climbing apparatus was missing barring the foam cylinder, usually with its brother, the top foam cylinder, of which children are meant to slide through into the zone of the next area.
Except this cylinder had no brother, and was hung tightly to the roof of the building. I was five years old, gripping on for dear life, a sixty foot drop to the ball pool beneath me. I saw my parents leaving the building. I scream and cry for their attention but there’s no answer. As they leave my mother turns around for one final glance at the distorted children’s play area, looking for something, probably, hopefully, me. But she shakes her head. She’s forgotten what she is looking for and both my parents leave and I am stuck on the last bit of climbing frame left in the warehouse. The doors shut and I can never leave.
We all came to, the “Yule Log” was gone, until next year. I know all of us are just dying to see what happens when he assumes his corporeal form this year!
Dad’s Dinner
BEeEeeeeLCH Uh-oh, Dad’s Dinner! Feelin’ sick an’ gooey already! ScHLuuuUuUuRP Bucks Fizz, oh no! WaAaAAaAAh Talkin’ ‘bout Brexit with dad now! Let it go Dad, you’re a dumb idiot! PlAaAaAaaaARRRP Dad’s dead now.
The Christmas Crossword
There were some pretty tricky answers on the Christmas Crossword this year, I won’t lie to you. I don’t know fuck all about Mumbai and I don’t understand how it’s Christmas related, so why even put a question about it on there? That’s not general knowledge, that’s just knowledge for people who know a lot about Mumbai. I got ‘Mince Pie’, nice and easy. I’m getting better.
Regrettably, one of the answers was P.G. Wodehouse. Never read anything by him, wouldn’t have gotten it in a million years. I get Virginia Woolf by pure chance, not understanding the Christmas element yet though. Mum gets ‘Marley’, but bizarrely it’s in relation to the film Marley & Me, not A Christmas Carol. The film takes place over a lot of years, there must be a Christmas scene in there, so all is forgiven.
We don’t manage to fill it out. Jack Lemmon was an answer, we know this because we checked the answers, but none of us had a fucking clue at the time. Uncultured cunts, the lot of us. One saving grace is I absolutely decimated the Sudoku. I only really used the numbers one through five, seems pointless that it goes up to nine.
New Years Eve
We all spent New Year's Eve tunnelling this year. We tried last year but everyone wanted to go to a house party instead. I’ve been saying for years we should dig a new tunnel under the Mersey and finally got the gang to agree. All's well that ends well. About six of us put in an absolute shift. Two at the front, two at the back, two in the middle. Standard.
We managed to get all the way to the other side with just a couple of trowels and a hammer. I was impressed with the team to be honest with you. The countdown was nice, except that one of the tunnelers hit a loose bit of rock and was crushed to death. Wasn't one of the guys I was closest to though so honestly I didn’t really care.
I was actually pretty disappointed when I got to the other side. I guess at some point we veered left too much and we ended up coming out in Runcorn. Had a look around but it was pretty boring so we decided to let off loads of dynamite all down the tunnel so it caved in on itself and got a bus home.
And that was my Christmas holidays, summarised! There was loads of stuff I missed out because I did so many cool things! Christmas is brilliant. I’m dead excited for next year, but having such a fun time this year makes it feel worth the wait. I hope you all had a lovely time! You’re all so special and perfect, and I’d love to give you all a big hug.
Do you have any wholesome Christmas tales? Please, tell Aidan Shard on the bar. If you tell him a magical enough story, he’ll take you to the stock cupboard and read you his screenplay for The Elephant Man 2: Infinity War.
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