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26th December 2016
09:10am GMT

Well, it's happened. Christmas has come and Christmas has gone, and you've survived the madness. Somehow.
You've met with the aunties and sent the cards and some of you may have even frequented mass. What a feast for the senses you've been through. But all feasts take their toll. You've somehow lost your Christmas sparkle somewhere between hearing carol singers and being poor as fuck.
Good news - you are not alone my friend. We're all up and down at the best of times. Take a look and see if any of these describe you too.
And ham? Vegan.

Warm and fuzzy feeling? More like tepid and coarse.

Who on Earth found necessity in this failed aluminium foil?

Scrooge at the start, that is.

Your lair has doubled in size since Christmas Eve and you're not willing to see it shrink in either style nor stature.

Purely because you have found a new inner truth and are rebelling against the restricting tendencies of zippers and denim.
... or something like that.

And when you realise, you shudder.

Your poor, penniless month.

Or daiquiri belly, for the hunzos.

And have given out bloody murder to your parents for never forcing you into keeping up the fiddle.

It's your parents' fault anyway. They dimmed your shining light.

And wondered what went wrong.

Up at 7am? Well that's practically midnight!

For it is your Olympic sport. And you, its Usain Bolt.

But you ain't complainin'.

Little gobshite.
