Ahhh, the smells of the festive season fill the air once more. Mince pies, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, eggnog. And your filthy sinning, you dirtbird sinners. Don’t think I don’t know. I have seen you all, in the run-up to the big day, punishing your liver, photocopying your testicles at the office Christmas party, thinking sinful thoughts about your colleague in Accounts under the mistletoe. You positively reek of sin on a scale I have not seen since my time paying money to hide in that Bangladeshi orphanage important missionary work to the Gaza Strip. So once again it falls to me, the most reverend Reverend, to take your confession.
You know who else works overtime at Christmas? No, not Santa. The other mythical creature who knows if you have been naughty, is the goddess Gal Gadot. Everyone has a big appetite on Christmas Day, and hers is no exception. You will all have to fire your sin, deep and strong, in many bursts to satisfy her thirst for your iniquity. She approaches across the snow-bound wasteland, as is traditional at Christmas, ready to feast upon your delinquent transgressions. You are all on her naughty list, and now I need to go to the bathroom.
What could possibly be more festive than Christmas television? Yet it is uniformly awful. In the UK they even televise the actual work of Satan in the evening. It is called Mrs Brown’s Boys and it is direct from the fiery pits of hell. But what of your filthy, degenerate Xmas viewing habits? What will you be making time for today? Today’s confession:
What are your Christmas viewing habits?
Hark, the goddess draws near, and your sack is bulging with sin. You must confess. CONFESS!
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