Countdown to Christmas

Are you ready yet? Have you suffered the humiliation of being pounded in the buttocks by the granny behind you, eager for that last piece of plastic crap for dear Jason? There's only 67 days to go! Aaaaah! Or not. You see the sensible among us ie those under 40 with a sense of the technical use this 'ere internet. Last year I was proud, I stood up!, to have not stepped into one single, solitary shop for a present. It helped that the wife got most of it admittedly but not even her presents were shoplifted or purloined from the high street.

Where might this technological time-saver go next? Could we order own funeral on our death-bed? Might one just log-on during fornication to get the ever needed mornig after pill? Time can only tell and I wish it would for my body clock is ticking and time is running out.

Tick-tick-tick....life is running past. Not jogging, not walking but sprinting like Linford Christie on a souped up pimping bling mobile, with go zoooooooooooooooom stripes. Next year I may be dead and then I wouldn't get to find out what the frig Lost is all about and THAT is my biggest regret. Not that I'd leave my grieving widow (she'd better grieve!!) for I'd be dead and wouldn't know what state she's got herself in but we put so much time and effort into watching these things, if we died before the climax, like so many pensioners, what would be the point of it all? There, that's my big guide to life - make sure you see the end of any TV programs you're following or books you're reading otherwise your life has been pointless. That's deep that is.