Too Soon

I went to the supermarket to do a bit of rant reconnaissance this afternoon and I wasn’t disappointed with my findings.

Christmas and New Year are still relatively fresh wounds and they’re already selling Easter eggs.

If I’ve “done the math” correctly, these are eggs that nobody will be tucking into for another 84 days.

We aren’t allowed time to take a breath. It’s similar to Britain’s Got Talent starting the second X Factor has finished. We recognise that it’s all shit and we’d just like a bit of a break from it.

We’ve all just undone our belts a couple of notches after the annual excessive unhealthy eating holiday and now there’s another gut-busting festival looming on the horizon.

Is it any wonder we’re all becoming so obese?

Perhaps Veganuary is a good idea after all? Spoiler alert: no, it’s not.

And the price. A chocolate egg with four bags of M&Ms last year sold for around £8. What a bargain. It means you were effectively paying £5 for a cardboard box and some plastic.

Anyway, Easter reminds me of yet another lie that people are fed – the Easter Bunny.

A rabbit that brings chocolate eggs to remind us of someone who faked their own death and returned days later? Sure, why not.

We already have a drunken old man who flies through the sky and breaks into people’s houses to leave gifts in exchange for more booze; a sick and twisted woman who exchanges cash for teeth, possibly to make some kind of sadistic necklace; and an imaginary bearded man in the sky who people go into large buildings run by paedophile-enablers to talk to.

The lies we’re told.

And do you know what the worst lie of all is?

It’s Barry Manilow’s I Write the Songs. He didn’t even write it, which possibly explains his slight resemblance to Pinocchio.