Friday 23 December 2011

The Swearing

*disclaimer. In order to discuss swearing, Ice must use swear words, but will soften them down with '1's and '*'s so as to avoid offence. It is Christmas after all.


Ice is not generally a swearing elf, though, on occasion, I've been tempted to direct a torrent of abuse at customers or, more often, Rocky the Singing Raccoon who pops out of the creepy enchanted tree every five minutes. On Christmas Eve that raccoon is going down. But I am continually surprised at the amount of parents who swear at their kids. Call me conservative, but it's a Christmas grotto, it kind of ruins some of the magic when echoes of 'you wee sh*t' reverberate around the tree.


They also swear at me. Not aggressively, just by way of conversation. 'She wouldn't smile, the little b*tch', a father said to me at the back till. I looked down expecting to see some monster of a child. The pretty, ringleted, 4 year old looked back at me shyly, still obviously traumatised by her visit to Santa.


I try to glare them from under my jungle bell hat to show them the error of their ways. Guess who's going to be on the naughty list this year.

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