Oi, Santa, go straight to number 10 (My Top 10 Christmas Wishlist)

Member Name: Daisybelle

Product:	My Top 10 Christmas Wishlist
Date:	03/11/01 (86 review reads)
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This is one weird category for me. I'm old enough and have worked hard enough, or at least I've convinced other people I have, which is what really counts, to buy all the grown up toys I'm likely to be able to afford or want in the near future. So items on any Christmas wish list seem likely to fall into one of two categories. Altruistic gestures towards my friends, family and the rest of humanity, and good old fantasy, like getting given a trip into space, or a red, mint condition Dino Ferrari.

Well, the first category was covered last year by just 'bout everyone that wrote an op on the subject, as far as I can remember. And where are we now? Uncle Sam and his nephew Tony are bombing the sheeit out of some starving peasants in one of the poorest countries in the world and Some Might Say we're on the brink of the Eve Of Destruction (Hey, maybe I should see how many song titles I can fit in :-) Anyway, it's pretty plain that all of the peaceful dooyoo do-gooders (No offence, I'd have said the same last year) wishes for the first Crimbo of the New Millennium wus jus lahk whistlin Dixie, in the local slang of those paragons of virtue up on Walton Mountain. Yup, no darn good.

So I'm going to make most of my mainly unfeasible wishes selfish ones, except for the last one and that's an early wish anyway, cos at least that'll mean only one disappointed dooyooer come December 25th 2001. Hell, that's REAL altruism for you, don't you just lurv me for my selflessness...

So, what I'd really, really, really like to get from Santee on Christmas morning is a book. Not just any old book though, this one would be lying in the same place as I guess a lot of dooyooers would like to find a book. You've guessed it - inside my head. My book would be a masterful modern contemporary British novel, a flowing litany of smells, sights, thoughts and words, with a backdrop of stunningly described vistas, fil
led with the aching beauty and pain of our society - kindness, brutality, love, violence, sex, religion, empathy, war, addiction. Sigh.

That's enough for one wish, so for number two it'd go on to win the Booker prize, I'd like to get a six novel deal with Random House and be feted as the peoples poet of my generation, writing verbal diatribes in the Guardian for the rest of my days.

Next on the list would be a radical shake up of the soaps. Now, I don?t like soaps, but my partner does, so I'm not going to selfishly have them disappear. However, there're some things that would just have to change.
In the Christmas episode of Eastenders I'd like to see Peggy's snarling, bouffanted head explode spectacularly at Christmas dinner, after a powerful glower from Sharon, a la Scanners, if anyone remembers that classy flick.
Next up is Gail Platt. Gail would be cruelly exterminated in the festive Dalek invasion of Corrie, as the Daleks wouldn't be able to bear someone more grating, whining and nasal than themselves.
Brookie. Stop the deaths. No one in their right mind would move to the Close of Doom, so hey Mr Scriptwriter, get real.
Emmerdale. In an Xmas shocker, Ashley the mole like minister will elope with Carlos the slack jawed Spaniard, thus depriving us of two of the most insipid, talentless bores on TV.
The rest of the soaps can stay how they are, as I usually manage to avoid seeing them entirely.

There can't be many people who're entirely happy with their physical appearance, and I'm no different. I'm only looking for minor tweaks though, nothing I could live without. First up are the feet. I'm cursed with big feet, they're size 13 and slightly flat, so as well as being very difficult to find cladding for outside of a boatyard, they can be quite painful. A size 10 would be nice Father C. Also, since childhood, my ears have shown marked similaritie
s to Dumbos, and my nose is just a bit too much like a proboscis monkeys, so a little shaved off each would be great, and naturally, the waistline could do with a bit of magical liposuction. Of course, this excess of flesh would have to go somewhere, so like most boys over the age of 13 I'd opt for that elusive Willy upgrade.

On to wish number 5. Some climatic improvements are essential where I live to boost my quality of life. The hottest day was a frigidly disappointing 16C this year, and the coldest -1C, barely enough to hold snow - it's just not good enough, so we need some adjustments at either end. On Christmas morning I want it be about -10C with 18 inches of fine, powdery snow lying on the ground, then gently warming up next summer to a balmy, Caribbeanesque 29C. Of course, this'll mean some lifestyle changes, so my two favourite hobbies would become my jobs, teaching skiing in the winter and scuba diving in the summer. Well, we all have to make some little sacrifices, don't we <g>

If I'm going to spend a lot of time teaching physical activities, fitness is going to have to assume slightly more importance than its currently abysmal Nil Points. This, Dear Santa, should come in the form of awakening on Jesus' birthday with a hardened body and the stamina of a long distance runner. Wrapping it up nicely would be a Karate black belt, as I did spend several years studying Karate as a yoof, but a combination of niggling, persistent injuries, lack of staying power, along with the dawning realisation that I suffer from all round bone idleness forced a sad early retirement upon me at the age of 23.

Next up is somebody to give me a gift-wrapped gallon of sheep and horse repellent. This might sound silly, but I've wasted numerous unsuccessful hours searching the net for the said articles. Our house and driveway border a field, which depending on the time of year it is contains sheep and Shetland ponies. T
he sheep seem to love depositing the by products of their lunch all over the end of the drive, and due to the strange camber of the road we can't move the gate. As if that weren't bad enough, the Shetland ponies lie cunningly in wait for me to pull up in the car, then ferociously snarl and drool as I try to scramble my way to the safety of the front door. Thank **** (Insert deity/expletive of your choice) for mobile phones, more than once I've gratefully rang my diminutive other half to come out and scare them away so I could shamefacedly leap out of the car.

Musical talent. Not much to ask for is it? On Christmas day I want to spang out of bed and burst into song, with dulcet tones that'd make even Pavarotti look twice. Then I'll go for a blast on my saxophone and suddenly be able to improvise my way through Night Boat to Cairo. If that's not enough to ask for, I'll head through the house for a quick tinkle on the ivories that'd knock Richard Clayderman into a tinned hat. These newfound skills won't be put to waste, no way José, as they'll lead to me producing some kicking house tracks, then breaking into the big time as a DJ. Of course, the success of the book will make this easier, as I'll already be an underground icon ;-)

No 9 would be the ability to code like a Cyber-God. I'd like to turn on my box to wish all my net friends a good day, and suddenly find myself hacking into MSN. I'd find my way into Mr Gates private collection of bestiality, and consequently "persuade" him to make XP a piece of freeware. Oops, maybe that sounds a bit altruistic. Oh well, we can't all be perfect.

Last of all, and this is the only one that really matters, the others don't count, they're all in the "Life is like a box of chocolates" category, and it's the reason I'm distractedly writing this drivel on a Saturday when I should be doing something useful. It'
s an early present, and I really mean this one, it'll do me for the next 10 years, so listen up Father C. Mrs Daisybelle was due to give birth to our first offspring 3 days ago, on Halloween actually. It hasn't arrived yet and I'm getting kinda nervous now. All I want is both of them to be healthy and happy.

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