The Shoes!

A video that perfectly sums up the state of my feet post Christmas party.

They’re ruddy nice shoes mind. I don’t think Swindon’s karaoke bar knew what hit it when I rocked up looking like this.

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(Me with a work colleague – excuse the slightly psychotic look, I was blinded by the world’s brightest flash in Wiltshire’s darkest room.)

Forget an alcoholic hangover, shoe hangovers are now a thing in my world!

The shoes!!

Whichever way you choose to spend your New Year’s eve, have a good (and safe) one. I’ll probably be spending mine in a pair of fluffy slippers, a glass of Baileys and a sharing bag of kettle chips, stopping only briefly from writing to shout “is it 2020 yet?”. Literally, New Year’s Eve is my least favourite day of the year.

Anyway, anti-climaxes aside, happy New Year everyone! Here’s to 2020!

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(I don’t know why I picked that photo, I had a browse through my WordPress image library/achieves and the memory from Cyprus in 2015 made me happy.)

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The Cat’s Guide to Christmas

Alright? I’m Bubble. Bubble the cat.

Bubble the Cat

You may wonder why my owners would give a name like Bubble to a male cat. Well, my sister is called Squeak (Bubble and Squeak, get it?) And all the stupid humans thought I was a girl until the vets confirmed differently. It’s not a name I’m particularly fond of and, as a result, I have spent my entire life in a constant sulk, excluding the times I shout at the humans to feed me.

Like a lot of men I like to work out, only I can’t get to the gym on account of being a cat so spend most of my free time doing the next best thing; sleeping in a gym bag.

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And trust me ladies, it shows.

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I’m sexy and I know it.

Anyway, this human thing called Christmas is coming up and while I’ve tried to hide from it…

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…it has finally caught up with me. I wasn’t even going to do presents this year (thinking about the environment, y’know?) But then I walked in one day and found my sister had already started wrapping up gifts.

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So really I didn’t have a choice. Luckily I don’t have many others to buy for (my advice if you’re looking to become a self-reliant, anti-social git? Become a cat). I just needed to get something for my annoying sister, even if she does always steal the best sleeping spots in the house.

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I took inspiration from my humans and first went for a dig around the cupboards, see if there was anything from past year’s of Christmas shopping I could give her.

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But had no joy. Then I took to the online shops but kept getting messed up suggestions like this:

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(I think one of those humans has been using my browser to search for dodgy products again.)

There was no other option, I’d have to hit the high street. I hopped on the roof of the next family cab into town and away I went.

The first thing that struck me was the weird customs humans have for celebrating what is meant to be a happy time of year. If they’re not advertising surreal…

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…Then they’re hanging and impaling little elf people in some kind of pagan ritual.

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It’s no wonder you’re all fat alcoholics. You actually decorate your homes with these!

Then again, after seeing this I have a new found respect for the miracle of the Virgin birth.

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And why is this woman’s face all over bags of crisps? Is this what you humans would call ‘the height of your career?’

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(And if you think I’m being mean just remember, I’m a cat. It’s what we do.)

When it came to shopping for Christmas presents, I didn’t know where to start. Luckily, many of the shops displayed their wares in a way that was perfect for the average bloke applying a scatter gun/panic buy approach to gifting.

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A little bit too generic female for my sister who happens to like her fur coat very much. Instead I went to the male default #2, a nice new perfume.

Perfume

Or maybe not.

I popped into a book shop because I know Squeak the cat likes to read a light weight novel or two. I was instantly drawn to a title that looked like it could have been written by the human in my family who writes for that blog, the one they call Alice. It just screamed her style of writing.

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And then I read the blurb and felt less convinced. I mean, the average writing quality was on par with Alice’s, but the plot development was anything but.

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I mean it’s completely unbelievable…it’s obvious that Daisy is sleeping with Greg (that’s why he keeps vanishing) and the Goose is mad because it’s Greg’s jilted lover. I’m a male cat and I can see that. Humans don’t half write some rubbish when they’re trying to pull sales or views.

In the same shop there was also this book:

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(One of the humans I was with said to Alice, “hey, Alice! They wrote a book about you trying to get a life!” And she said, “hey, India! They wrote a sequel where I hit you with that very book!”)

To be fair to the human called India, Alice does have a tendency to hang out in coffee shops by herself and woman-spread everywhere.

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She likes to think it makes her look smart, I think it’s just to cover up the fact that she’s constantly spilling good coffee.

Like a lot of humans, she’d buy just about anything that’s coffee-branded.

Candles

(If you had to look twice before spotting it, you’ve got a problem.)

On another note, I’m not sure what image you big humans are trying to suggest to little humans when you give them dolls with drugged up eyes.

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In the same way that I don’t fully get the need to take the Every Love Matters campaign to the extremes of inanimate objects.

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(I did try to tell her that her companion didn’t seem interested, but she told me to tinsel off – hah, and you thought Cats have no sense of poor humour…)

And as for this…

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…You humans are alright with making your spawn think they’re being spied upon but I just happen to walk in on you taking a shower and suddenly it’s completely unacceptable? Your species is seriously messed up.

But then I saw this and I restored my faith in the tat you humans gift each other:

I’ll have ten please…for myself.

And this made me laugh:

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It’s a physical chocolate replica of Bitcoin, but Bitcoin isn’t physical, it’s a virtual currency! Sadly however no one in the store seemed to get the joke. It’s as if people shopping in Poundland for Christmas presents don’t dwell on that level of humour.

God, you humans don’t have produce some weird looking babies? At least kittens are fluffy, but you guys decide to put the strangest looking ones on jigsaw puzzles! Why?

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And what the hell is this?!

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Have people literally turned to gifting c**p to each other? No wonder people have started donating money to the Slippers for Donkeys campaign or whatever far out animal charities exist nowadays.

When did the Grinch get sold into human-creature trafficking? Asking on behalf of a friend.

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It’s a niche market, granted, but humanity really has lost its heart if it can’t cough up £1 to help.

Jesus Christ! What is this?!

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Why would you even entertain the thought of inviting this into your house? It’s flipping scary!

It was around this time that I gave up with Christmas shopping. The final straw came when, after hours of searching, the one and only thing I thought I could gift my feline sister, a nice new outfit, well it turned out to be out of stock in her size. Typical!

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I give up. I knew I should have picked something from the National Trust’s Christmas store when I had the chance.

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All this shopping for Christmas presents just takes too much time!

Sod it, this year I’ll just wrap myself up and be my sister’s Christmas pressie, because lets be honest, family is the best damn thing you can have.

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Great, so that’s Christmas settled. Now I can crack on with watching some high-quality festive films, ones which in my view were robbed of Oscar nominations…

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…And deal with more pressing matters. How do I get this human to move out of my spot?

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Meowy pawmas everyone!

 

(Special thanks to the members of my immediate family for making this post possible by constantly spamming my WhatsApp feed with cat photos.)

 

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The Season Alcoholism Became Trendy: The High Street at Christmas 2018

Hey, guess what? It’s only blinking Christmas.

(Wait, you’re telling me this wasn’t top of your playlist?)

As we enter into the final furlough of Christmas shopping it felt only right I put fingers to keyboard and compose a seasonal post of what the UK consumer markets are trying to flog this year. And boy, has the High Street really invested a lot this year into our well-being.

Kicking off with that point, designers and retail buyers across the land have made a sterling effort to make us more aware of our health this season. It’s good to see decision makers moving away from chocolate and fast food related puns and products. That’s because this year there’s a new fad in town; alcoholism.

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(You get the idea.)

Course, if gin isn’t your bag there are still a scattering of animal puns to be found in shops, however they haven’t charted so well so have found themselves relegated to the tea towel isles of TK Maxx.

And if tea towels or traditional animal puns aren’t your bag then there’s always toilet paper that features a rabid rabbit that looks like an extra from Watership Down.

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(All I’m saying is that it’s a couple of Bright Eyes plays from…)

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And that’s available all year round folks! (The loo roll, not Woundwart.)

Marketers struggling for new and original way to market often take a step back and return to the basic principles. Red is good, bells are better or if either aren’t possible from a branding perspective just stick a hat on it.

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“Yep Jimmy, that’ll do the trick”

Even better though, you could always put a hat to something that’s already a symbol of Christmas. Because if you stuff up the colouring of a traditionally seasonal bird in the factory, chances are a comical hat (that said bird would never wear), well that will entirely baffle and charm consumers into a needless purchase.

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I’ll take ten.

Now although a number of High Street stores have been making an active effort to advert public attention from certain political disruption (chiefly a UK event beginning with “Brex” and ending with “It”), unfortunately some shops just couldn’t overlook it. I found one bargain outlet stocking what I can only assume to be the retailer’s prediction of what a Post-Brexit banana will look like.

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I think it’s supplier’s decision to put it in a “Jokes and Gags” box that really does it for me. Brexit will impact you too China!

Speaking of China, I don’t find this assumption that British people only wear one sock funny either.

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What are we paying our taxes for if not to have Foreign Ministers dispel these ridiculous rumours?

You know what, come to think of it I think Europe and the wider world want done with us. I mean, even Denmark (Denmark!) are flooding our stores with what look like neck crackers.

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This is a very different take the the traditional Nutcracker tale I remember as a kid

 

Ok, ok, enough political stuff. Lets get back to the high quality gift giving, such as these fish slippers.

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You know you’re onto a winner when I don’t have to add any dry wit

 

Or an overpriced toothbrush?

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Getting that unique taste twice a day? That’s the flavour of bulls**t

Course, many people struggle to buy presents who those who may have been somewhat challenging throughout the year. When it comes to particularly ‘difficult’ presentees then I’d always recommend purchasing something that seeks to improve relations between the two parties. Something to subtly tell the recipient to lighten up or shut up.

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Just be prepared for backlash from the recipient and their crew.

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Why do I feel like I’ve had a dream like this?

You know what, this year I think I’m going to revert back to the basics. It’ll be chocolate gift giving all the way with me. At least with festive chocolates everyone knows where they stand.

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Is that Father Christmas or a slightly squidgy Christmas pudding?

I’m going to stay in, have a glass of wine and watch a festive classic on TV.

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For Christ’s sake!

Merry Christmas Everyone! With love from Jesus.

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A Christmas Message

Presents? Check. Food and drink? Check. Festive tunes? Check. Good.

Now remember, your mission is to end the day like this:

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A bit blurry, but you get the idea.

Merry Christmas one and all, now go forth and be me.

Jolly Lobsters, Glamourous Thermals and Stick Deer: Could This be the Most Hipster Christmas Ever?

woke up this morning to find God had bestowed a belated birthday/early Christmas present on me…

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Now I know most normal people would look at this with utter delight, but because I am basically the love child of David Mitchell and Richard Ayoade I naturally am disgruntled by this sight. If God had four Christmas parties to attend to and several board meetings lined up I’m sure He’d feel the same.

So my day started with that, followed by the world’s most middle class Christmas argument, fuelled by the family having too many Christmas lights:

“We’re not putting multiple sets of lights on the tree.”

“But look, these are similar.”

“The clue is in the word ‘similar’. They’re not the same.”

“We can make it work. Lets lie them out first and turn them on…”

“Oh just turn the frigging lights off. Look, I’m having to get off my backside now to do something.”

“Wow, that language is a bit strong.”

“Dad, if you’re going to judge Mum’s use of the word ‘backside’ then seriously we’ve got issues. Also, I’ve just found another box of lights…”

I kid you not, Times Square has nothing on the Bennett household right now.

The evening has now drawn to a close with four adults heckling The Snowman (35 years later and I still think it’s nothing on the 1998 often overlooked classic The Bear)

(Why did you take the bear from his home! Then the girl loses her toy and starts crying even though her Mum gets her a replacement and then…well it’s about then that I start to lose my faith in humanity and become an emotional wreck. It’s a rapid spiral I grant you.)

Anyway, I digress (and have had multiple Christmas parties and realise I should really get this post written before Mariah gets put back into her festive cave with Michael Buble and half of Band Aid).

Ah Christmas, that wonderful time of year where decorations cover the shops, festive TV adverts fill our little homes and language that in any other context would be weird and mildly uncomfortable is apparently acceptable.

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It’s also a time for those working in marketing to don their “how far can we push this?” hat in a bid to convince consumers that very uninspiring, essential, items are really amazing things.

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(“Oh Jeffery, you saucy man you. I thought we promised to keep presents strictly Victorian this year? You know what Georgian clothing does to me.”)

 

That said, I did wonder if we were approaching the end of the world and/or Christianity when, before Advent had even begun, I saw this in Wilko…

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(Naturally I stock piled a lot of thermal leggings and chocolate in preparation for what would happen on the 14th December. Spoiler – my boss still expected me to be in work and double spoiler the Devil didn’t make an appearance. Let down.)

As for me this is the first Christmas in my new house (would be smug but have no money), I set out on the very new experience of buying decorations for one’s own home. Typically the conversation in my childhood around buying festive ornaments has gone something like this:

Alice: “Mum can we buy this bauble?”

Mumma Bennett: “How much is it?”

Alice: “£4.”

Mumma Bennett: “No.”

(Still better dialogue than Twilight.)

And, to be fair, one must be watchful because if you’re not careful the big retailers can run rings around you. Take these decorations for example. Now although they’ve been reduced in price, if you look very closely you notice there’s actually nothing ruddy well there.

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(Don’t worry, it took a while to spot it myself.)

This year however the conversation on my purchase of decorations was altogether different…

Mumma Bennett: “You must buy lights.”

Alice: “Ok. Here, what about these?”

Mumma Bennett: “Oh no! That many will not do, you need more. Here, get the next box up.”

Alice: “Really?”

Mumma Bennett: “Trust me, a tree with too few lights is worse than one with too many. They’re worth paying the price for.”

*Days later*

Alice: “Hey Mum, it’s Alice. So what you were saying about lights the other day…yeah, I have too many. Decided to put them around the large canvas and hope they don’t burn the house down. How flammable is oil paint? In other news, Georgi has never seen mulled wine in a bottle and the other Alice thinks Tree Skirts are the work of black magic. Gotta dash, speak soon!”

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When I returned home next I returned the favour of giving bad advice by getting them to play this awful, awful song:

Other than the minor health and safety issue of LEDs and poorly labelled products, I’ve discovered that there are also a great wonder of WTF goods out there to be bought. E.g. when it comes to buying Christmas interiors I draw the line at pooping into an elf.

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I mean, this girl has standards.

And as for this craze which randomly appeared overnight and now is at every Christmas market…what?

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I know a way to radically reduce your costs and overheads. You get a stick and sell it – it’s called a stick man. Even better, get a few and you have this wonderful thing called kindling which you can set on fire and use to keep warm. No need to thank me.

But then I see a pair of punny socks and my blood pressure drops a little.

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Then I see this sign and I hope to goodness that the designer drew their inspiration from Friends.

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If not than this whole hipster craze really needs to calm the shizz down.

Oh, and for anyone buying me presents this year, don’t get me this:

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Or this:

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And women, if you really want to please your man, may I recommend you take him to this stand and leave him whilst you do the present shopping?

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So there you have it, another Christmas edition of Alice Bennett’s inner warped, deeply sarcastic, but wonderfully enlightening mind. Things to take away from this piece:

  • The Bear is amazing, snow on roads is not
  • Christmas lights were sent by God to test us, just like a number of stupid products being sold under the umbrella terms “festive” and “Christmassy”
  • Thermal leggings are NOT a suitable present.

 

So Merry Christmas to all, and to all may your gingerbread lattes be overflowing and your heads forever covered by wolf hats.

 

AB. x

The Perils of Retail Therapy

A memo to the wise; if you do too much of this:

…you’ll end up with an ankle looking like this:

Ok, granted I wasn’t posing in that exact same fashion when my ankle went, but when it started to ache during a shopping trip I decided to ignore the pain and carry on walking on it. I’d decided to venture to the fair Welsh capital of Cardiff and I didn’t want to turn back before I’d even got properly stuck into my needed dose of retail therapy.

As well as the blinking obvious (walking on a duff ankle) there were other things I didn’t fully factor in whilst hobbling around the city centre on a Sunday in mid-late October. These ‘things’ feel into three categories:

  1. The impact of a particularly bad cold virus.
  2. Excitable children on school holidays, pumped up on sugar and in want of Halloween ‘stuff’.
  3. Super eager women, pumped up on caffeine and hell-bent on obtaining Christmas wares before anyone else.

The result was pure shopping chaos, particularly when I became caught up in the shopping centre at peak time. Quickly I found myself bent and morphed into shapes usually reserved only for the most brutal of Twister games. Grunting the pain away like a reindeer on Christmas Eve, I kept my eyes straight and aimed my cold-filled, Rudolf Red, nose towards the nearest exit.

Out of nowhere they came. Turning out of a shop and charging toward me at speed came a group of teenage girls. Dressed in clothes that liberated their pre-pubescent figures, the young women clutched their semi-empty milkshakes in one hand with a firmness that was nearly as strong as their grip on the pre-ripped, bloodied, shirts that were slung over their backs.

“We’ve got the dead look covered this year girls!” One of the party exclaimed triumphantly, as she pored over a small bag of purchased make up. The others nodded in mild agreement, slupping on their milkshakes and scrolling through void blocks of information. At the command of their leader, the group circulated around a black screen to appease the tiny dot before them. The first snap failing to satisfy, they posed for another photo, and another. The look of death had a time and a place, and as far as the camera holder was concerned Snapchat wasn’t one of them.

Upon realising that my collision with the party was both inevitable and likely to write off my foot (for which I felt quite sure the girls lacked any sympathetic insurance), I decided to change my path. Like a Shakespearian character my persona as flipped into a Hellish beast as I gritted my teeth and turned on the sore ankle to walk around the female cluster.

As I hobbled on, dragging my bad leg behind me, I saw bitter sweet irony reflected in the eyes of all the ghoul clad staff who regarded me with confusion and unease. Coffee stands decorated with bloodied bandages and skulls, shops festooned with beaming figurines and tinsel, each environment looked down at me with a soulless attitude that clung onto those who dwelled beneath. Of all the shopper types it was only the husbands and boyfriends that took the crown for being more out of place than I. Loaded like a Biblical Donkey, acting like a Hollywood Zombie, the men of the city took pity and avoided my half dead shape, whilst their respective partners walked in window-display bedazzlement across my path. I gave a half smile of encouragement to these brave men and pressed onwards.

It was a circular pattern of discomfort and disinterest that punctuated the day. The simple pleasures; the reading of a book undisturbed, discovering a nicely styled boot, these glimmers of joy were hard won and so easily lost. A noisy patron in the neighbouring seat, a swollen foot rebelling against a test environment. A reminder perhaps that no one can be a God in the world of the Godless. This thought whispered around my brain in mockery as I slowly staggered towards the bus station. A hissing that ended with the slamming of doors and screeching of the brakes as I departed the capital once again for English soil.

Life, sore ankles and seasonal shoppers; nothing lasts forever.

Christmas Shopping and Parties 2016: A ‘How To’ Guide

Well, who’d have thought it, Christmas has come around yet again. It’s the J man’s birthday (well, sort-of birthday. It’s really just a ceremonial event, you know, a bit like the Queen’s birthday or Dannii Minogue’s degree from the University of Southampton Solent).

Despite Christmas day occurring on the same day, in the same month, every, single, year, the Western world seems to go into mental and commercial meltdown from about October onwards. I say October, when I was younger it was November and in ten years’ time it’ll be January. Wizzard’s ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday’ will be an awful reality, playing out over a rusting tannoy as mothers fight in a Hunger Games/Battle Royale blood bath to obtain the last potato to dress up with cabbage leaves. Outside, gang warfare breaks out yet again due to a shortage of indigestion tablets and mulled wine. Oh, and Borris Johnson is ruler of the not-so-free world. What a terrible, terrible world.

Still, we’re nine years away from that escalation so in the meantime here are some of the wonderful purchases one can make in Britain if still in need of a last minute, high quality purchase to give to your dog, sorry, nephew.

A good place to start is to let your nearest and dearest know what you want. You can drop them hints here and there, or maybe leave them a note. Or, you could get it written across the front of a shop window:

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(Just remember to keep the wording polite and British.)

If you know what the latest fashion trends are clothing is always a good option. Festive jumpers that state the obvious or depict animals from the homeless pet adverts never fail to lighten one’s mood:

Socks, too, remain a classic gift purchase. This season it’s all about food puns:

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But be warned, spouts were so 2015. Sales of sprout-ware have subsequently seen a massive decline as people realise that vegetables in hats on socks is neither hilarious or witty. It’s weird.

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Hang on, I’m sure I’ve seen this before…

Of course, if you’re of the grown up variety you could splash out on underwear:

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Hmmmmm. Well even if you dispute the message, always, always make sure your pants match your jumper:

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With more and more people turning to online retailers, the high street has over recent years seen a change in its pricing policy. For the thrifty buyer this can result in great shopping deals. Unless you want orange juice, in which case you can jog on.

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Because the high street wants consumers to spend money in their stores, you’ll often find high levels of investment and intelligence factored into stock layout and price labels. This ensures you, the consumer, know exactly how much an item is at a glance.

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Sometimes no amount of reductions can ever justify the product:

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And please, for the love of God do not buy presents from pound shops, especially those who make out this is a reasonable gift to give someone:

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There are very few giftware items that embody the term ‘crapware’ better than the above.

Be aware of the stores that take to magical allusions to convince you to buy a non-existent item. It’s an easy enough trap to fall into, in the below example you may need to take a second look to establish what’s missing:

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Other stores may shrink the portion sizes:

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Speaking of food, it’s always best to stock up on the non/less perishable items as and when you can. Failing that, stock up on products that cover all bases. After all, why pay more to buy cookies and milk separately when Father Christmas could munch on these instead:

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A product with natural AND artificial flavourings? Well count me in!

And who needs a traditional Christmas lunch with all the meat and trimmings when you could buy yourself a massive tray of sushi? Not just any sushi mind, no, no, jelly sweet sushi!

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And if that is even too much then look no further than your local bar or restaurant to cater to your feeding needs. National pub chains such as Wetherspoons pride themselves on a variety of Christmas dishes (just so long as it contains cranberry or turkey):

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After all that shopping you’re probably ready for a sit down and coffee. By this point you’ll spent all your money on inappropriate underwear and Pop Tarts (if not, then hit the shops again). Drink of choice therefore? Americano with half a cereal bar you stashed away in your bag for this very moment.

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As you look out of the window you start to see the shops around you close and the natural light fade to e replaced by an altogether different sort of luminosity. The town centre Christmas lights. Take a moment to marvel at the decorations, see how awe inspiring they are. More importantly, don’t make eye contact with the crazy lady:

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Shopping done. If you’re not already like this…:

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…Then it’s time to get your glad rags on and hit the town to celebrate. Don’t forget ladies, accessorise, accessorise, accessorise!

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And let’s not forget the make up/dress choice. Jazz it up, spritz and glitz yourself so that you go from looking like this:

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To looking like this:

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(Cor, isn’t she a stunner?)

If make up/clothing fail you in this mission, ply yourself with merry liqueur to make you feel like the latter. Just remember though, it isn’t all about what the boys in the club think. In the immortal words of the great philosopher Justin of Bieber:

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(And if other people can’t see that? Well, there’s a scatter cushion for that too:)

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You’ll know if the night out is a good one for two reasons. a) your shoes will look like this:

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And you will feel like this:

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And hey presto! Christmas is sorted and now all you need to do is gear yourself up for the next big event, the Boxing Day/Winter Sales. Oh wait, you actually have to wrap up presents don’t you?

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Dammit!

BONUS PICTURES: Life Choices – Christmas Shopping Special

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(Disclaimer: all items in this post were taken on location, photographer did not alter or move items.)

Nablopomo Day 20: Have Yourself a Scary Little Christmas

Apparently it’s no longer enough to put up freaky and scary decorations once a year on Halloween, now it’s happening for Christmas too. Take this ornament for example. For 25 of your hard earned pounds you can buy this monstrous piece of decorative tat:

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It’s big, it’s clunky, but those eyes. Who decided that painting those eyes on in that way was ok? If that wasn’t enough though, it gets worse. You press a button on the side and it does this:

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Because gold glitter and bright lights makes everything better. Especially in a darkened space.

Seriously, who is commissioning these items? Who is buying them? Both sets of people need to sit down in a room and take a good, long, look at themselves.

 

 

Nablopomo Day 10: The John Lewis Christmas Advert 2016 – Who’s Cleaning up the Animal Poop?

In the UK, the John Lewis Christmas ad is kinda a big deal. In recent years it’s created a tadition of being the most finically invested, beautifully created and, therefore, most anticipated television advert of the year. It’s not acceptable to eat a mince pie until the John Lewis Christmas advert has broadcast on television sets.

Based on that, I present to you the John Lewis Christmas advert 2016 – #BusterTheBoxer.

You’re going to need to watch this for context to the below:

 

Now I’ve/you’ve seen the full advert, here are a few thoughts. My very British thoughts.

  • #BusterTheBoxer is not an acceptable title for a beautiful and/or Christmas advert. You guys spent £1 million on production and you couldn’t produce a better title than a hashtag? You guys charged per word or somthing?
  • That dog isn’t cute.
  • Whatever happened to nodding dogs?
  • That girl is going to destroy her bed.
  • I’m sorry, what decent parenting allows their kid to get away with that much bouncing?
  • Anyone who has ever been a kid/parent (i.e. everyone) knows that expecting a child to sleep on Christmas eve and not react to clattering in the garden is expecting way too much.
  • Goodbye to your chances of getting Alan Titchmarsh to redesign your garden. That thing is a beast and is going to kill off your grass to buggery.
  • Also – good luck mowing around that mate.
  • Ok, I’m going to have to suspend reality for a bit here I can see.
  • That is cute.
  • Oh no, don’t invite the hedgehog on, with his spikes that is a minor injury waiting to happen. I hope the dad kept the receipt, spike damage on a trampoline is going to be pret-ty noticable.
  • Mate, I wouldn’t be too down about it, with that many animals on there you wouldn’t reach optinmum bounce anyway.
  • Never snows on Christmas.
  • That trampoline is far too clean. You’re expecting me to believe that the animals of Farthing wood all came down and had a massive garden party on that thing and there’s no foot prints, scratches or poop on that thing? That thing should be reaking of ferral animal right now. Unless we skipped the scene where Peter Rabbish and Jemima Puddle-Duck came down and cleaned it up?
  • Real unattractive dog gets upstarted by CGI unattaractive dog.
  • Ok, I guess it is kida cute though.
  • Why do all the humans look so confused/stoned? Given their reaction shouldn’t the overall message be “Christmas is for sharing, idiots”?
  • Well that was nice, I actually needed that. Oh wait, Trump is still going to be president, better get back to screaming into a pillow and ditching Christmas presents for stocking up on tinned goods!

Gotta love the John Lewis Christmas advert.