Xmas time - presents, parties and pissed up old scrubbers

And lo the saviour was born wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger and in his company were a glory of angels sent from the father. Shepherds and wisemen surrounded him and his parents Mary and Joseph looked at their new child. I have also heard there was a donkey involved and also a drummer boy there which I thought was a bit stingy on the Christ families behalf, I thought if they were going to throw a do they would invite the whole band.

2006 years later the devil has taken over and men throughout Christendom are forced against their will to traipse through hell also known as IKEA. Other than fecking cushions and bollocks, all it is is a giant warehouse of doom where you are forced to witness your partner pointing at generic stuff and you nodding, I would kick Iran out of the axis of evil and put in IKEA instead.

The problem would be if we sent troops in they would have to follow the yellow fucking line and end up at the exit, full of meat (testicle) balls with a wooden spoon, a basket and loads of candles without firing a shot.

I often see a parallel between young Jesus life and my own. He helped people and I helped people get pissed. He performed miracles and I manage to get you fuckers out 4 times a year.
He walked on water – I can drink all day and get home after kiwis without looking up from my orange curry and chips once.
He could talk to the animals, no, that was Dr Doolittle but then I talk to a giant Morgan virtually every day so I am better than that prick too.
He raised Lazarus from the dead and I have managed to, on 2 occasions to wake up Taz after a huge session. He was the son of God and my dad drives a milk tanker so that’s one all. He died on a cross and I can guarantee I will definitely die cross or at least slightly perturbed.

So the Party is upon us and already the Rooster is hanging out of his arse. Wales’ capital city is a contemporary Sodom or Gemorrah. You just cant walk far without seeing fat valley commandoes with shiny shirts and shit moustaches trying to knock fuck out of each other while their ‘homebirds’ Beyonsi and Saycbiteandblak are when not spuing up whitelightning are screeching like banshees. These birds are fat as fuck but that’s a good thing because if they had to rely on the 3 pieces of faux leather they were wearing they would be dead from exposure in minutes.
The Lovechickens love skimpily clad women but we want them to look like Angelina Jolie not Taz with a bra on and his willy stuck between his legs.

Sorry follow chickens about this yuletide rant but it was just a precursor to wishing you all a very merry Christmas and a happy New year. Next year sees the Lovechickens going to at least 3 different countries and playing at least once – we will be expecting membership in the new year so look after your coppers so you can afford it.

While I am used to the plaudits telling me how brilliant I am let me take this opportunity to say thanks for you boys for being part of a great club – lets make 2007 a facking huge one…..