'Tis the season to be jolly. Or merry. or goodwilly, or something. Apparently. Heh. We said willy.

For approximately one month a year - or four if the decorations in some supermarkets are to be believed - we're called upon to eat like there's no tomorrow, drink like there's no liver disease, and buy like there's likely to be a shortage of bath gel.

Sisters Meg and Anna (not in the nun sense of the word) (they're actually related) (and aren't nuns) and Brothers Cliff and Bobbie (Not related, just franciscan monks) (possibly) are here to relieve your Crimblennui (tm) and make your December just a little more spangly.

Think of it as our little gift to you. You may not have asked for it, you may not want it, but then, you could say the same for whatever Uncle Billy's going to give you this year.

Happy Advent, from us, to you. 'Tis the season, after all...

We've been doing this for a few years now. You can catch up on everything you missed in the full archive. There's loads there. Honestly, it's a wonder we had time for shopping, really, with all that content.

Link to this site using this handy button, if you can be keffed (you'll need to copy it to your server space):

'Tis the Season is a Pickard Production by Meg and Anna

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3 December 2005

Santa, Baby

Anna says: It was during an advert break that I started thinking about Santa, baby. Actually, it's probably worth mentioning that it was during an advert break containly FOUR consecutive Christmastastic adverts. Out of five. And this was a week and a half ago.

Anyway. Advert break, all of a sudden, a sultry, breathy voice started lapping at the waistband of Christmas's trousers. Santa baby She cooed...Hurry down my chimney to-oo-night ...

My GOD! I thought. That's DISGUSTING.
Someone should complain to the QUEEN.

I've since done extensive research on the history and symbolism of this particular song (I typed santa baby into google)(actually, to be fair, I initially typed snata baby into google, but it didn't really return anything very useful) and have discovered it to have been sung by Marilyn Monroe, Kylie Minogue, Madonna, and many many other sexpotic chantreuses.

So what is this? The song that put the sex into, erm, Chrisextmas?

You can imagine some record company executives sitting around - "Problem is, guys, christmas is all about the sleigh bells and childrens choirs, our biggest artist, however, is all about the pointy tits and the botty-slapping. We need to find something about christmas that's a bit more, you know, whoomphy".

So here we have it. The breathy lady entreating the engorged red man to "hurry down her chimney" as soon as possible. The engorged red symbol of a man "comes" down her chimney, leaves her a little "present" under her "tree" and withdraws.

Let's face it, you don't have to be a Christmasexologist to see that the whole thing's utterly suspect. And think about it more - Santa? Anagram of 'AANTS'. And where do ants like to go, traditionally? That's right, Pants.

I mean, now I reflect, I'm not even sure that it's just this SONG that's suspect. All these stories, the big red man, his companions with their ENORMOUS HORNS. I think I may complain to The Queen about the WHOLE SHEBANG. OH MY GOD, I just said 'Bang'.

I'm going to complain to the queen about Me.

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