Thursday, 29 December 2011

Navigating the Dead Zone

Some would say it's divinely right. Others would say it is pure coincidence. I would say it comes down to poor planning.
Mary Carpenter (your one out of the Joseph, Mary, baby Jesus and the donkey fame) claimed to have been a virgin. I'm not going to question the fact that as a married woman, she had not consummated her vows and whether legally this meant that she was married to Joseph nor the implications on the status of their child. Perhaps they were heading to Bethlehem for their honeymoon when whop! she was nine months pregnant. Joe was possibly still the worse-for-wear following the reception when much wine was turned into water and this possibly explains why he was searching for an inn and not a hotel when arriving in town with his heavily pregnant virgin bride. I should imagine that this led to some arguments between the newlyweds right up until they set up shop in a stable, thereby ensuring high December straw sales for evermore and a million illiterate Project Mangers with squiggly blue lines.

I am a fan of fiction and have read a fair amount but cannot claim to be familiar with either testament. However, as I understand it, the story goes that Mary was impregnated by God, apparently with the permission of a very understanding and hungover Joe. Let's not argue over the details, by the way, as they are not central to this post. I've never understood the appeal of Star Trek yet there are millions of Trekkies out there and we are able to live our lives harmoniously with our paths crossing but rarely. The crux of this biblical beginning - the Genesis of this blog, if you will - is that God chose to have Mary C. popping on the 25th of December, exactly one week before New Years Day.

This seems to be to very poorly planned. While I can understand the thinking, I cannot help but think that God has messed up his Gantt chart. 'Let New Years Eve fall but one day afore New Years Day? Perfect! Have a sherry. Now, wherefore shall one place the birth of the little baby Jesus? Late October? To fall equidistant between the August Bank Holiday and the New Year? Hmm, no. I can imagine that the Americans will get on their high horse about that once they have been invented and start giving thanks in late November. April? No, that will get in the way of Easter. Another sherry should help me think. What about in early February? Ah jesus, I've only gone and forgotten about Valentine's Day. Second Monday in May? Bugger. The French will go on strike as they've already got their workers' holiday then. Oi. OI! ALFIE!. Give me another sherry. In fact just leave the bottle; it's alright; here are my keys, I'll walk home when I've finished my calendar. It was Christmas Eve babe, in the drunk tank, an old man said to me, won't see another one. And then he sang a song; the rare old mountain dew, I turned my face away and dreamed about you. Dum dum dum dum dum dum dum dum dum-dum.

Time at the bar, ladies and gentlemen please. Oh God, come on, let's get you out of here. I bloody love you, Alfie. You're me best mate. Just let me sort out the birth of Christ and then I'm off. Have you got any pork scratchings? Ah sod it. The week before New Years Eve; that'll do. It'll give them all a week off work and they'll thank me for it in the end.

Fast forward a couple of thousand years and here we are approaching the end of the year of our Lord, 2011. This is the thirty-somethingth time I have had to consciously navigate the Dead Zone and I am pleased to report that we are almost there. Between the turkey wearing off and the first glass being poured on New Years Eve, this can often be the most trying time for families and factually results in more pointless arguments than at any other time of the calendar year. Today alone, early results from a MORI poll indicate that door slamming peaked at 3.20 this afternoon when half the nation stormed upstairs, indignant that Indiana Jones had been chosen over Big. This will result in a slight rush tomorrow morning as DIY stores across the globe sell out of one of the festive season's most popular items: wood glue. In some extreme cases where Big was overlooked by Indiana *and* the Angela Rippon dance with Morecombe and Wise was chosen ahead of the You've Been Framed Festive special, entire doors will need replacing. This will result in a peak in door sales the first Saturday in January as the entire population will first attempt to repair the doors with wood glue before resigning to the inevitable: the door needs replacing.

However, this year, I am particularly pleased with my Dead Zone Performance. This could be anacronymized into DZP though I will refrain from doing so as I will only use this term twice more in this blog and then never again for the rest of my days. To shorten Dead Zone Performance into a more manageable DZP would therefore actually cost me more time in the long run. If I thought it was going to be adopted on a national or even global scale along the lines of the anacronym gods (ASAP and OMG) then I would utilize DZP on a more frequent basis but it won't so nor will I.

My Dead Zone Performance has been of a highly proficient, close to professional, level this year. I have applied almost the perfect combination of alcohol, fresh air, food and friends and have therefore only lost one day (a mere 25% of post-turkey-wearing-off time) to the sofa and mundane televisual options. 'But there are almost two entire days to go, man. There's no way you should be making such mildly self-congratulatory and wild claims when you are only two-thirds of the way to the goal', I imagine you are thinking and you'd be right. Partly. Chronologically, your thoughts are accurate. It is 7.33pm on December 29th and there are indeed 52 and a half hours remaining before we sing something about auld acquaintances being forgotten (along with all the other words in the song) but I have a trump card up my sleeve as tomorow I am attending a New Years Eve Eve party and navigating the Dead Zone is almost complete. All that remains is for me to publish this post, put the laptop down and head downstairs for a celebratory beer. 2012 is in sight. See you then. Cheers.

1 comment:

  1. I speak to you now from the future for it is 2012. I have just been made aware of the following blog post from the distant past which also talks of a mythical Jesus creature.

    I'm going to start following this Minchin chap. He has onions and I like the sound of them.


Come on, spit it out. You're not normally this quiet so let's hear your thoughts.