It was Christmas Eve, babe....
Being a bloke and thus, obviously, terrible at Christmas generally - but especially the shopping part - I'm very lucky to have a convenience store (a One Stop, if you're nosy) right at the bottom of my road. Now, don't get me wrong - I'd bought all the pressies in good time - for I am familiar with Santa's little cheat-shop, Amazon; but had I bought wrapping paper, sellotape, labels?

Had I f....

So I'm in said store on said Christmas Eve; my arms full of wrapping paper, waiting at the till. There's one woman in front of me, making chit-chat with the sales girl. They're clearly friends as, when I join this very short queue, I catch their conversation.

"...you hadn't heard then?"

"No! When did all this happen!?"

"All since Wednesday! Dan found out she cheated at the Christmas party and has chucked her so he's in Devon with his parents. Little Jake's gone up with him and then - to top it all off - no bloke, no kid - just this morning, her dog gets run over and she needs to find a vet who'll put her down before Christmas....."

....It was at this *precise* moment that I felt that split-second vibrate from my phone, in my jeans pocket, before the message-alert tone kicks in. I have my hands full... I can't stop it... I know what's going to happen. I am already inwardly dying. Re-read that previous paragraph again and this time, after the word 'Christmas' insert a very, *VERY* loud "WOOOOO-HOOOO!" from Homer Simpson, courtesy of my phone, in my pocket.

I'm ashamed to say it made me produce a snot-bubble for the first time since school.
(R. Jimlad twitter.com/sirmarkymark, Thu 10 May 2012, 23:28, Reply)