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Man opens door on advent calendar to reveal howling black void of consumerism

A MAN has opened the first door on his advent calendar to reveal a yawning black consumerist void demanding to be fed with money. 

Tom Booker bought the advent calendar to count the days until Christmas, but instead is staring into an infinite abyss of capitalism which wants everything and gives back nothing.

He said: “I thought it would have chocolates in. Cocoa-dusted Belgian truffles, maybe.

“Instead the cardboard door opened and revealed an endless freezing starless night. But somehow the depthless oblivion was writhing, and it spoke to me. ‘Feed me’ it said.

“It wants cash, it wants vouchers, it wants luxury goods. It wants Boots three-for-two offers. It wants tubs of Celebrations and bottles of Bailey’s and pigs-in-blankets and wheels of Stilton.

“But no matter how much you tip in there, it swallows it and then demands even more. I can’t keep up. I’m already well into my overdraft and it’s only December first.

“It says it’s the real meaning of Christmas. That can’t be right, surely? But it doesn’t feel like it’s wrong.”

Six disgusting habits that you just can't stop

YOU know you shouldn’t do it, but you can’t help it. These are the gross habits you carry through life that are repulsive even to you: 

Picking your nose

If your nose isn’t meant to be picked, why are your fingers the perfect size to do it? You can’t have permanently crusty nasal passages. But what do you do with your haul after the fishing is done? Smearer or gobbler, you’re a disgrace.

Ignoring your feet

When you shower you’re not arsed to actually bend down and soap them, and your talon-like toenails get torn rather than trimmed. And between the toes? A collection of fungi that would make a rotting tree-stump proud, sloughed off onto the carpet when nobody’s looking.

Scratching your dandruff

The whole office watches you scratching the flaky skin on your head then checking your shoulders to see if you’ve got any big bits. The whole train watched you on the way in, just like the whole class used to watch you when you were 14. And still, shamingly, you carry on.

Never changing your sheets

You tell yourself you change your fetid bedsheets every other week, but when exactly was that ‘other week’? September? July? March? Because the yellow-stained pillows and the potent aroma of sweat and wanking are giving you the nightmares you deserve.

Your post-toilet routine

The days of soaping your hands singing ‘Happy Birthday’ are long gone. Now it’s a quick rinse because come on, you hardly touched anything. Apart from your dick, and the door and the lock and the toilet seat, but only quickly so the germs didn’t have time to climb onto your hands. Now for some crisps.

Smelling stuff you already know smells foul

Your farts after a bowl of French onion soup. Your pants when you peel them off at the end of the day, your fingers after a good scratch of the old ballsack, the milk that you can clearly see is lumpy… why can’t you resist the siren call of things you know are disgusting?

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