It's Christmas

We've been over-excited for weeks, saying to each other: “Bob Geldof is coming! Bob Geldof is coming!”. We decorated the house and took time off work. Family came to stay and finally we got physically agitated with the levels of joy, practically tap-dancing with anticipation.

Just last night we could hardly sleep. “Bob Geldof’s going to be here tomorrow” we said to each other. We believed he’d come, bringing pure happiness. His little helper, Bono, would fill our stockings. They’d medley stripped-down versions of a few 80s hits, stop for a drink, and be off to spread cheer across the land.

Now Christmas is here. And, like a whirlwind, he’s been. Gone before we woke up. Don’t know how we didn’t wake up while he was here. I guess that’s what they mean when they say he’s magic.

He’s left an empty whiskey bottle smashed on the kitchen floor. Put his fags out on our dog. The house stinks of something I can’t quite put my finger on. He can’t have done it single-handedly, or not just with little Bono anyway. They’ve eaten everything and left scraps everywhere. Trampled crisps and nuts into the carpet.

Finally we saw that Bono was asleep in the garden. He ran off as soon as we opened the window.

We'll block up the chimney next year. Merry Christmas, everyone!