Christmas shopping mood ‘feral’

As Christmas finally draws near, the season of goodwill is manifesting itself across the land as an orgy of violence and pain where shoppers fight to the death over toasted sandwich makers and novelty tea towels.

The message of peace and happiness to all mankind has been told in no uncertain terms to go fuck itself as 80% of the British population realise they haven’t bought any shit for anyone yet and have probably left it too late to raid Amazon.

The trouble started early this morning when, still suffering from the effects of the obligatory 12 days of Christmas drinking, all of the men in the UK and some of the less forward-thinking women awoke with a sort of in-built alarm chiming in their woozy heads, manically informing them that they hadn’t bought grandma anything yet.

Armed with only the remains of their credit card and a good, solid lump of wood or other blunt instrument, Britons began making their way to the shops as soon as dawn broke at around 10am. Roughly an hour later, the death toll is rumoured to have topped 500 and is set to rise as stores begin to run dangerously low on blenders.

'I saw that Furby first shitbag.'

‘I saw that Furby first shitbag.’

One shopper described the carnage: “It was like the Somme. I saw a man lose an arm trying to hold on to a handheld vacuum cleaner against a vicious onslaught by two nuns and a monk.

That bunny from the John Lewis ad? Dead. So very dead. Feet missing too; I think people heard they were lucky.”

Shop assistants have taken the sensible precaution of coming to work armed to the teeth in order to subdue the roiling masses should shit get really nasty. Store manager Karen Mudwig was shocked by the scenes in her department store: “Why do people do it to themselves? Most of this crap won’t ever even leave the box. Whoever they buy it for will just resent them more, and the human teeth embedded in the items will make it quite clear that this was a last minute purchase paid for in blood. But will uncle Ray be grateful? Will he fuck.”

The other 20% of the UK who are calmly riding out the storm can be classified into three groups: the elderly, most women and men who will make a perfunctory visit to a petrol station on Christmas Eve. The elderly are the most prepared – many bought this year’s gifts back in 1963 and so have been prepared for some time. It’s a little known fact that every gran in the UK has a secret garage where she has ruthlessly stockpiled enough toys, books and small kitchen appliances to supply birthday and Christmas gifts to a family of up to 70 until at least 2050.

The second group, most women, simply have the foresight to plan a bit ahead like rational human beings and got it done, online no less, in mid-November. They must be resented and vilified as much as possible no matter how nice, thoughtful and really quite useful the no doubt perfect gift they give is.

The final group, petrol station men, stoically refuse to care about any of this Christmas guff and in terms of gifts you’ll get what you’re bloody well given and you’ll bloody well enjoy it. De-icer for the car? Perfect for all ages including children and those who don’t drive.

Meanwhile supermarket do-gooders Sainsbury’s have promised to update their godawful advert about zany Christmas Brits doing zany Christmas things to include the reality of last-minute panic-buying, which is just as much a part of Christmas as the turkey and grandparents being racist. A spokesman said: “We plan to include a five minute scene of a woman beating a man to a bloody pulp with our exclusive casserole set. He’ll be dead after one, but that won’t stop her. Our viewers will think, ‘Wow, this lady really wants that casserole set! Maybe I should kill for one too’, which is exactly the message we want to land.”

Merry Christmas.

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