Christmas 1.5 - The Inbetween Of Christmas




Ho ho ho dons and donettes. I just got back from the midlands, where me and the wife were ensconced in the bossom of my Mum's side of the family, engaging in a mighty FEASTING, and a GIFTING, playing games and drinking beer and wine and whiskey and chasing it down with slugs of Gaviscon.

As you know, I wasn't well before Christmas, but I rode the wave and had a gay ole time, like The Flintstones, or Lil B. I also made myself a NEMESIS, in the shape of my cousin Gail's Labradoodle, Darcy, who barked like one of the Hounds of Hell every time I entered the room as if I were a burglar, or a murderer.

We eventually worked out that, like a school girl, Darcy was just in love with me, and wanted to play, but why females think that being horrible to you will make you  like them and want to play with them I will never know. It is one of life's great mysteries.

As far as the gifting was concerned, I pretty much WON the £25 secret santa, bagging myself not one, not two, but THREE excellent comic themed gifts - an X-Men hoodie, a home made Marvel jewelery box (I needed a jewelery box too), and a pair of Batman converse. "SWAG," I said, gratefully, and not for the first, or last time.

I also got the ULTIMATE gift from my WIFE... 75 Years of DC Comics: The Art of Modern Mythmaking. The biggest (you could kill a man with it), and most wonderful (it is a beautiful, luxurious, expansive and deeply comprehensive history of DC Comics goddamnit) book I have EVER SEEN. Here I am, reading it. Behold the awe:

And while all this was going on, out in the universe Akira The Don was Donning on regardless. Adam Walton played Babydoll as part of his Best of 2011 show on BBC Radio Wales, and Rob Da Bank played Nothing Lasts Forever on his BBC Radio 1 show on Christmas Eve (and promises to continue:)

...shortly after which boy genius Issue released his beautiful PIG mixtape, which features Murs, Droop-E, Georgio Mo Murda and ME, amongst others. And on Christmas Day, while we were getting fat and happy, Dr Aaron Shrimpton was editing part 2 of the Life Equation Trilogy, the Video Highway video. Behold ye STILL:

Yes, he's doing good work is that Doc Shrimpton.

Meanwhile back in the Midlands, Zef had put together a home made rum vaporiser...

...and me, Marek, Paivi and my Uncle Maurice had discovered the greatest board game since Monopoly:

Ticket To Ride - in which up to five players compete to build train lines across North America - is board game CRACK. We managed to squeeze five games in over the two days, staying up till 3am playing it on Christmas Day, and continuing on Boxing Day after the traditional walk/stick fighting contest... and we'd have still been playing it the morning after were our women not so insistent on us getting showered and packed and out of the house.

But out of the house they got us, and that was Christmas Part 1 over. It was a beautiful thing to spend a few festive days with so much of my beloved family and it will live forever in my heart.

But now we must concern ourselves with the sequel. CHRISTMAS 1.5... that bit between Christmas and New Year's Eve. To some, a terrifying no-man's land of bad TV and leftover dead animals, but to me a glorious turbo-holiday of lower-than-usual work expectations and LAYING AROUND IN BED ALL DAY with my WIFE playing COMPUTER GAMES and DRINKING COCKTAILS.

We stayed in bed till about 3 today playing Sonic Generations, which is excellent, then we went on a little bike ride to hand-deliver a copy of Saturnalia Superman to someone Royal Mail failed.

Then we decided to buy Skyrim.

That was around 7pm. It is now 03:02 am, and I have just emerged from the bedroom, eyes as big as dinner plates, twitching and muttering about dragons. I spent about 4 hours of that time working my way through a vast tomb full of skelingtons straight out of Jason And The Argonauts with a great big fuck off sword to find some goddamn dragonstone, only to be attacked and repeatedly murdered for an hour straight by angry villagers upon my glorious return. All I did was steal a cheese. Eventually I worked out that if I sheathed my great big fuck off sword the bastards would stop killing me, waiting for me to respawn, then killing me again. I was ready to weep. I'd merked about a hundred skelingtons with battleaxes and here I was on an infinty death loop at the hand of a rabble of goddamn pesants. If there's a hell, that's what Tony Blair's getting.

Oh, and you know what the first thing that happened to me in Skyrim, once I'd gotten out of the opening act - was? I got attacked by a bloody dog.

Ale jaca est.