Tales of catastophe, sex and squalor from the Alpine Underbelly...

Belle de Neige

Friday, 24 December 2010

Merry Fucking Christmas

It's odd how I'm in possibly one of the Christmassiest places on earth and yet I feel completely un-Christmassy.

It's fair chucking it down with snow. Look. Just look how Christmassy it is:


Pretty fucking Christmassy I think you'll agree.


But considering I will be subjecting my staff to a self-inflicted accounts meeting on Christmas day, I can hardly claim to be in the Christmas spirit, can I? What a bitch!
I haven't even got any Christmas decorations up in my flat. Which is odd. Because I usually love the whole affair and used to hang gold stars off the ceiling of my bedroom when I was thirteen and play 'The Christmas Alphabet' on repeat from the beginning of November, until my entire family was driven to foaming at the mouth insanity.

Anyhoo - Here's MY Christmas alphabet:

Capital C - is for Cunt. All you out there on your Christmas ski holiday who wrote a complaints letter to head office on Christmas Eve because you didn't get given enough bog roll in your chalet, or some other equally pathetic quibble. This one's for you. You cunts.

H - is for HELL YEAH! I'm gonna go get off my tits in about 5 hours.

R - is for Rain. We don't want any more. Watching a ski resort get rained on is like watching a kids sandcastle get pissed on by a drunk paedophile. Just wrong.

I - Idiots. Or to put it another way. My staff.

S - sick. May none of your clients chunder on anything in your chalet over the festive season. I pray you are spared the misery of picking chunks out of the carpet when you should be down the pub.

T - is for Turkey. Foisted on chalet-clients by tour operators Alp-wide. Who even likes that mound of dry, uninspiring, tasteless flesh? And it's then further cluster-fucked up by the incompetent teenager (who thinks stuffing is something you do after 20 jager bombs) employed to cook it and served charred on the outside, pink and ripe with salmonella on the inside for a family of confused and alarmed Greek guests who don't celebrate christmas until March anyway.

M - Mass. I'll definitnely be in attendance to repent for my rapid accumulation of sins. Not.

A - Arseholes. Or to put it another way Russian clientelle.

S - Snowshoeing. It ain't skiing but it's all I've got.

And before I totter off to get drunk (after trawling through the next 4 hours of accounts and complaining clients) I must have a little boast: I'm famous! Tribe Magazine have seen fit to give me a double page spread! Personally, I wouldn't take my advice. But enjoy :)

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