Yes, it's that time of year where I am reminded of my own shortcomings and have to dress up as a hypocritical urban myth of sold consumerism because Christ knows if I was myself, I'd be fired and never work again. Plus, I've apparently lost so much weight I have to wear a Little Britain-style fat suit. Oh, let joy be unconfined.
So let's go through who's on my list:
Well, you've got a boyfriend, a flat, a cat, a cleavage that got you proposed to three times before you were over the age of consent, and you were stupid enough to dye your hair black and piearce your tongue. Mmmm, on the knife edge of naughty, nice and unbearably smug. I grant you the Gift of Red Dwarf. Specifically the Gift That It's Coming Back.
A pure soul deserving of presents. But what can you give someone who can build their own Georgia Moffat action figures? Buggered if I know, the lucky sod.
Cameron J Mason:
Another good little boy who deserves that Benny Summerfield The Inside Story book he contributed to in every way, shape and form. Alas, there is a worldwide Satanic conspiracy to prevent him getting this, so what can I do? Seriously, make a request, I'm totally out of ideas. In the meantime, I grant you the Gift of BF Parody... plus a freak coincidence that after claiming Hazell was a drinking buddy of the UNIT gang, an episode reveals he's actually Harry Sullivan's best mate. Gor, all that ANY trying to seduce Lala Ward, no wonder people keep mistaking him for Tom Baker...
He's a brilliant cartoonist, socially-gifted comedian, and people think he's so cool they say he has a Harem as a COMPLIMENT. As you can imagine, someone that lucky isn't going to get much out of me. I give you the Gift of Some Stuff I Drew On Request:
Well, he deserves his play being performed at the Footbridge Theatre to wild applause. No doubt he's worked out a far cleverer ending. I grant you the gift of McCallif-Tonite-patened Transparent Vegemite. (Note: any similarities to a jar of KY jelly is totally coincidental, and if Shaun can eat it live... well, spit it up live... so can you).
Everyone I Forget:
Well, you slipped below the radar, didn't you? Be more noticeable in future.
Jared "No Nickname" Hansen:
A toupee and a flintlock. Do not get them mixed up.
Nothing. Take this as a lesson to not offend Santa by casting aspersions on his honesty. He knows where you live, dude.
I know precisely what he wants for Christmas. Unfortunately, all I can offer is some 23rd century grunge bands. The Gift of the One is yours, manmiles. Use it wisely.
For insane hilarity and still managing to make us wonder how deranged you really are, I grant you the Gift of Being Stabbed By Cassie from Skins. Non-refundable.
For your crimes against the literary world, your pedalling of intolerance, ignorance, hatred and drug abuse, I sentence you to death by absinthe poisoning and the knowledge you will never feel the smoothe touch of Adam Rickitt's pectorals. But since you have absolutely fuck all to live for I give you the Gift of Absinthe to block out the pain.
I grant you the Gift of Truly Appreciating The Twin Dilemma. Don't read it all, just enough for you to go forward and prove all your beliefs were right.
All The Looneys At The Doctor Who Audio Dramas:
I just can't help but take pity on you, since even this ONE gap year hasn't given you a fraction of the audience needed for anyone to take you seriously. A new Doctor, companion, logo, etc, isn't going to help since Moff's got there first. But, in the meantime, have an eBook from myself. I grant you the Gift of Children Shouldn't Play With Cyberment... Cyberment?! What?! CAN'T YOU PEOPLE SPELL?!?!?
And to myself:
I decide judging myself is a complete waste of time, grant myself the Gift of Total Exhoneration On All Charges and Everyone I've Ever Lost Will Come Home! OK, it's corrupt but since I won't actually GET the present, it's all balanced out, right?