You Know Me - Robbie Williams, Reality Killed The Video Star
I was round my mum’s the other day, and she gave me this year’s sheaf of 2009 newsletters for my reading pleasure. For those of you who are blessed enough not to receive these, they are hugely self-indulgent pages of personal news, typed up in the form of a letter and sneakily tucked inside your Christmas card by the smug middle classes, on the bizarre assumption that you will in some way give a monkey’s scrotum that their youngest son Matthew re-married in Barbados in May and it was a lovely day for all concerned. Seriously, who gives a shit? If you care that much, why wasn’t I invited?
These epic tomes do, however, make highly entertaining reading, albeit mostly with my mouth hanging open. I can tell you, for instance, that Jamie has passed his Grade 4 piano with flying colours and his parents are very proud. Clare has acceptances at both Birmingham AND Cardiff for next year, where she hopes to study psychology after a gap year irrigating Uganda. Simon has had the other hip replaced and, despite a tough year, is now back playing tennis. Good for him, I say, or at least I would if I had the smallest idea who the fuck Simon is.
Of course what we really want to know is all the meaty stuff – how Jamie is a serial shoplifter with a slightly sinister obsession with his piano teacher, and how the reason that Matthew’s previous marriage broke down was because he was caught boffing someone from work, and how Clare has managed to get a decent set of exam results despite moving into a squat with her much older boyfriend and spending most of Year 11 doped off her face.
But of course you clearly don’t care, because you don’t know any of these people. And by coincidence, neither do I, nor does my mother because these are all sent by people she hasn’t laid eyes on in nearly 20 YEARS. Which begs the question, WHY? Why would you write random crap about yourself for people who are essentially COMPLETE STRANGERS??
Ah. Ahem.
Anywaaay, I thought I’d get into the spirit of the occasion, and send out my review of 2009, newsletter-style. Here, for your consideration, is the first draft:
Dear lapsed friends, random mental cousins and vague acquaintances from my dim and distant past,
Well, 2009 is coming to a close, and what an exciting year it’s been! I quit my job and am now poverty-stricken on a freelance rather than full-time basis, but I’ve lost a load of weight from all the stress and not being able to afford to eat, so that’s a brucey bonus. Writing is going really well, apart from managing to piss off major Scandinavian nations, but let’s not go there. Actually I can’t go there, there’s a Norwegian customs alert with my name on it. Some people have just got no sense of humour.
You may already know that D and I have split up, but fuck it, I’m going to tell you anyway - you’ve got this far without smashing your head into the wall. Although of course some of you may not know who D is, even though we were married for 14 years. We got married in Wiltshire in 1995 and it was a lovely day for all concerned. Anyway it’s all irrelevant because we’re now separated, mainly because he was boffing his secretary. Ha, only kidding! He doesn’t have a secretary. No, really, it’s all very amicable and he’s still doing all my laundry, and yesterday he let me borrow a couple of pizza bases because I didn’t have any and the Co-Op was closed. Please don’t send your tragic washed-up spinster daughters his way, as he is no longer taking damaged goods..
I now live on a boat, so probably best you take me off your newsletter mailing list because I no longer have a postal address. In random health news, I’ve had several kidney infections this year and a nasty bout of thrush. I blame the damp, personally. My chickens were brutally killed by a fox, but the kids are fine.
Merry Christmas,
H
So what do you think?
December 10th, 2009 at 1:30 am
Brilliant. Don’t change a word.
Two other pieces of news NOT on the mailouts.
Simon is camped out (permanently) on the traffic roundabout opposite his family home after his mother threw him out because despite a very expensive education he’s a lazy little tike. Now he wants to get her back by showing her up in front of the neighbours.
And Thomas’s mum has traded in her Labradoodle for a Rottweiler/Alsatian Cross because his drugs are out of control and the dealers who come round are nicking all her stuff.
And don’t think I’m making this up!
December 10th, 2009 at 5:48 pm
My favourite opener of the ones my mum gets: “Pete’s Mum died in March, which put a bit of a downer on things.”
December 10th, 2009 at 6:09 pm
Nah - the whole point of these missives is to just go on about how you’re considerably richer, happier, and more annoyingly successful than everyone you’re writing to. My mother’s had one this week from someone who’s bought a yacht and gone round Australia this year - oh, and judging by the obligatory smug photo, possibly had Botox as well… Although she didn’t mention that, oddly enough.
December 10th, 2009 at 7:36 pm
These letters say ‘I have the most perfect life and family - how about you?’, but 2009 has been relatively crappy for me and mine, so my friends will receive only a card and they can read into that what they will.
What could I say:
Hubby inherited half a house in the New Year, but no-one wants to buy it.
Health scare in March.
Depression in April.
Granddaughter causing my beloved eldest daughter some grief, while brave son-in-law has been back and forth to Helmand Province more often than Gordon Brown avoids answering questions.
Youngest daughter and much loved son-in-law split up - didn’t see it coming.
Developed 2 handfuls of arthritic joints so surgeons have removed the bones I can do without. I am promised a future with very weak but pain free hands, so thats okay - until I need to do anything.
Put on 7kg since last Christmas. Now own a fat belly, huge bum and a wardrobe of undersized clothes.
Hubby is insisting that all waste must be placed in the kitchen refuse bin tidily. No reason, but if it is not disposed of tidily it is hoiked out and replaced in accordance to the instructions given.
2 weeks of 2009 left and I am losing the will to live.
Merry christmas to you, dear friend in you perfect home with your perfect children and perfect husband. Unless something ‘normal’ happens to you next year, please don’t write to me again. A card will do.
December 14th, 2009 at 11:08 am
I was once told that all humour relies on someone getting hurt. Should I be sorry to say that I found all of the above so painfully funny, possibly the best writing I have seen all year. I do hope you all have a better 2010
On the other hand I am looking forward to reading more great stuff……..
December 16th, 2009 at 1:36 am
Roight. This year rounrobin not ter be confuse wi’ fat bob dont come ter much mostley MERV got a emale sayin’ he dont have ter wait fer a degree he jus send off fer it an oi doesn’t know wha’ he sayin when he send orf fer it but them send ‘is money back sayin there is limits youse know so MERV reckon them run out o’ degrees.
That wha’ happen between jan an sept then big news the rev doin a servis at our laydy o’ tha blessid contraction had a epiffanny but turn out he havin a stroak an speakin in tungs for near forty foive minute afore anyone catched on.
Tha’s it fer 2009.
December 16th, 2009 at 11:06 am
P.S.
Not withstanding his tidy bin fetish, husband No.2 remains fantastic between the sheets. Did you manage to persuade George to seek treatment for his little problem?
December 16th, 2009 at 2:26 pm
jus wonderin what h’s mum gettin up ter between tha sheets that involvin a tidy bin an where do it fit in??
December 16th, 2009 at 2:32 pm
cos MERV got fetishes an all an any advoice be useful, particular where it to do with excessive repulsive disorder which seem it wha’ he got.
December 16th, 2009 at 4:49 pm
sory bout all tha postin but oi asks Lilette in tha loibry bout tha tidybin shenaninagens in tha sheets and husban insistin tha waist put in it an Lilette sayin it a yoofanism. Needles to say oi says wha? An she sayin it again. Tha’s it fer me.
December 17th, 2009 at 11:07 am
Dear H’s mum: can you not give your daughter your skinny clothes for Christmas, and she can buy new ones for you instead of herself? A win-all-round situation.
January 15th, 2010 at 5:09 pm
Great collection of ludicrous round robins here http://www.amazon.co.uk/Christmas-Letters-Ultimate-Collection-Robins/dp/1843546671
I received it for Christmas, read it and doubt I’ll re-read. If only you had a postal address- I’d shove it in the mail to you! x