Secret Santa is a shitty Christmas habit, isn’t it?
Which foolhardy, fucktarded cretin decided to import this American turd sandwich as a new tradition?
“Do you want to do Secret Santa?”
If you don’t partake you’re a grinchly curmudgeon, though if you do partake, you choose Remainiac Richard the office prick who reads The Guardian, likes cats, and boils people’s urine at 50 yards. It’s even worse when you have to open your gift and pretend to be excited by ‘crazy socks’. At the time of year when moolah is the tightest, we have to spend more time and money shopping.
“Do you want to do Secret Santa?”
Look at the variety of colleagues for whom you could buy but who irritate you or bore the skin off your bones: The loud, zit-ridden ball-ache with a permanent odour of fast food; the aloof arsehole with the wan face who spends the weekend either jogging or decorating; the irksome, over-sprightly homo with a manicured goatee constantly blithering about ‘celeb cuwture’; the vexatious, token EastEuro trash, endlessly complaining about Britain but NEVER FUCKING LEAVING; the overweight, over-confident, over-judgemental gorgon who wears dresses as if she’s the correct side of forty and slides “my church” into every mundane, tedious conversation. Marvellous. I wonder which cunt I’ll choose this year.
“Do you want to do Secret Santa?”
Only if I can give you a calendar from PoundLand with a different decapitated cat for each month; or perhaps a box of fancy biscuits that I made myself and into which I mixed some tapeworm eggs that I ordered from a Ukrainian website then baked at the appropriate temperature, placed in a festive box, and all tied-up with a cute, Christmas ribbon.
Nominated by Captain Magnanimous
Get it off yer chest, Captain. I’d hate to work where you do. I, too, hate Secret Santa and, being a cunt, would refuse. “It’s only five pounds” would be the protest from the simple female who’s brain becomes addled on 1st December. Well, I’ve got better things to do with a fiver.
Then there’s the office dinner. Deserving of another cunting. Over to you Captain….
10
I’m not going to cunt the office party. I had a great one in the 80’s on a Friday – got utterly shit-faced at the company’s expense, fingered the office bint, roundly abused management and co-cunts I’d been forced to spend time and share space with and got myself fired, meaning I didn’t have to work my month’s notice period before starting my new job, which I had been offered that very morning, on the following Monday. I call that a result
4
If the workplace wants to be ‘in the Christmas spirit’ then they can bloody well give everyone paid holiday from 2 days prior to christmas eve until 2 days after new years day.
Until then I care not.
9
Feminazis in our small business introduced this. We let it happen for one Christmas to humour them. After that everyone could clearly see what a crock of shit it was, so it was discontinued then and there.
Happy and special days indeed – common sense prevailing.
6
Pain in the bollox Secret Santas; as are office collections for birthdays and leavers.
Some cunt comes round with a card and a bag full of change “Do you want to put to Peter Eurotrash? He’s 30 years old today” In my youth I’d comply and throw in a couple of 20ps with the cunts looking; but now I just say “Never heard of him, now fuck off!”
And as for putting to a collection for a cunt who is resigning to take up a new job with more fucking money, fuck that for a game of soldiers!
And Secret Santa- load of bollox as I said earlier. At times I have wanted to buy a plastic dog turd or a dildo for 2 of the cunts in my office I don’t get on with at all
Of course these days the person receiving the surprise gift might come over all offended and will bleat to her boss or social media about how upsetting her prezzie was, and that she needs a few weeks off to recover from the trauma
fuck ’em
AND WORDFENCE IS AN ALMIGHTY CUNT AMONGST CUNTS!!!
10
I am no longer allowed to do cards for colleagues,
I discovered that moonpig will print anything! as a leaving card I had fuck off you nazi cunt printed on a smiling ss man, the recipient was not so chuffed, and my “Go home and die” retirement card was confiscated and destroyed.
12
My standard reply to anything Christmas related is, Fuck off you papist cunt, I’m a fucking Jew. It ends conversations immediately.
8
I love it when some Children In Need drone rattles a collection box under my nose. I look them directly in the eye and proclaim loudly ‘ No thank you ‘. Their cheery smile lingers momentarily as they struggle to compute , by the time the smile fades and realisation sets in I’m yards away .
Happily, Secret Santa bypasses me totally, as I work on my own .
Load of old tripe , beloved of cunts.
On a related note, I’ve been busy in the shed making some alternative Christmas decorations, similar to the ones that implore ‘ Santa stop here ‘ that loathsome cunts put in their front gardens , only these say ‘ Fuck you Santa ‘.
I shall carry out the swap on a foggy night and take the soppy ones back home to be refashioned.
Fuck Christmas.
Good morning.
15
I donated the hot MILF with the pert arse in Finance a pair of my granny’s unwashed bloomers last year.
I haven’t been invited to join in this time round.
Result!
7
I fucking like your style!
3
I watched a movie a few years back called secrete santa, where santa was covered in spots and legions that oozed discharge.
That was fun viewing.
7
I’m a miserable cunt who won’t donate to charidees, resists the passing bucket, and certainly would piss in the hat of any secret Santa. Office Parties? Shite. Collecters in the street ? Fuck Off ! I hate all the hype and the shite of christmas, the most fake conjured up waste of fucking time
10
Particularly love the tapeworm eggs. But if you cook them they will no longer be viable. Better to incorporate them in whipped cream or something.
The irksome over-sprightly homo got into the seat behind me* in the bus last night. Hands-free phone, into which he drivelled brightly at his husband for the entire half-hour journey. Yup, ‘culture’ and ‘creative’ figured prominently. Cunt. Cunt with manbag, scarf and stubble cunt.
*Fnaaarrr? No fucking way.
7
You should’ve put on old Ludvig van as previously discussed, K. After bleating about “cuwcher” to his hubby it would’ve been amusing to hear him say, “Listen duck, turn dat shit off!”
1
Secret Santa can be lots of fun though. Last year, I got a nervous young lass in my Secret Santa. Her face was a picture as she opened her Hannibal Lecter mask and a second hand copy of racist and offensive jokes that I got from a charity shop.
13
You got to read this.
https://www.stuff.co.nz/national/109054225/nelson-santa-parade-organisers-apologise-for-maori-santa
3
They did that Secret Santa bollocks where I work one year… Fortunately I got the fittest bird who worked there and all my workmates were gutted… Nice girl actually, she got me a bottle of Remy Martin and a bit under the mistletoe… But it’s a shame that’s all I got off her… But thanks anyway, Angie…
4
I despise Secret Santa and I thoroughly loathe any Christmas parties. The enforced sharing and shotgun Togetherness with people you can’t abide is enough to make anyone go ‘postal’ with a Bowie knife. Bad enough having to converse with these knuckleheads.
6
I’ve never heard of Secret Santa, shows what a hermit I’ve become. But by the sound of things I’m not missing much.
2
Quality cunting.
I buried my dad yesterday so laughs have been a bit thin on the ground but this cunting made me chuckle.
Cheers, boss.
4
Commiserations Mecha. Stay strong my friend.
3
That’s a grim task. I hope you have lots of good memories to remember him by.
3
Cheers Ron/Jack
3
Sorry to hear that M-R.
2
Top quality as usual Cap’n.
Have to admit though, this pain in the rectal region can sometimes yield a worthwhile result. Where I used to work, we had a female manager who was a right greasy pole climber, would step on the face of anyone in pursuit of her own ruthless career ambitions. A right detestable cow if ever there was one. At the office dinner everyone had to take their Secret Santa present and open it in turn. Imagine the uproar when it was found that whoever had drawn the bitch out of the hat had purchased an anal dildo…
6
Evening Mr.Knee
I hope it was within the days of mobile phones with cameras so that the whole office had souvenir photographs with which to reminisce and chuckle. She might’ve played the “you bastards” face then later taken it for a test drive.
0
I was feeling like a right smug cunt because no-one at work has so much as mentioned secret santa since I’ve been here. Organisations which do it must be entirely composed of dumb cunts and at least mine isn’t, I thought.
Email today -Christmas lunch with quiz and secret santa, let’s have your name or you are an evil antisocial cunt. True for you. Bad enough having to watch and listen to the cunt managers who have made my existence miserable this year getting down wiv da peasants, but absolutely fuck buying them presents.
Memo to self: urgent: look for work in Iran. May be a bit severe on the dhrink, but at least there’s no bloody Christmas.
4
My Dick in a Box ( see The Lonely Island) would make the ideal secret santa gift for all the office harridans
3
The Secret Santa used to be a big thing at my last place. I never took part because I lyingly told them that I celebrated Hanukkah instead. I had enough gen to pass a rudimentary inquisition (courtesy of my “Old Testament Ally” friends) without having to resort to Wikipedia.
O’course that used to fall down in the new year when I told the cunts what I’d gotten, and what the kids had gotten for Christmas… Well by that time “not so Secret Santa” was over, and as Dick would say, fuck ’em!
The amount of grief and agro it used to cause was hardly “Christian” as easily offended twats used to be miffed if their secret present didn’t match up to the £10 each person was supposed to spend.
Moreover, zero work would be done by those cunts “well into it” from the moment it was announced until the ultimately disappointing opening (the first year folk took them home for under the tree, the second there was a grand opening in the office – just so they could see who’d basically lost out that year).
Classic examples were:
– A beautifully wrapped cheap Xmas card with “Have a drink on me!” on the revealed envelope, which – upon opening – contained a fiver!
– Another – on similar lines – had “Something for the Winter!” on the envelope, only to reveal a Lemsip sachet.
– The health and safety Stasi cunt was bought a 10 pack of “Featherlight” Durex.
My favourite however was a massive round box of Quality Street – which was obvious from the wrapping – which when opened only contained orange, strawberry and coffee creams!
The following year they tried it again but where who was picked by whom was to be made public and no cunt went for it.
It warmed my heart to think that for every ten Secret Santas there’s at least one Secret Cunter!
😂😂😂
3
It’s just such a shit idea. Ace if everybody likes each other but I’ve never worked anywhere without experiencing cliques and back-stabbing cunts – especially fat women, they seem to be the most nefarious bitches anywhere.
I will do anything to avoid this habitual shitfest which is nothing compared to the opening ceremony.
0
Yes the £10 Vagisil Gift Set doesn’t go down well with the “trouble with their thyroid” lot!
1
Secret Santa? Oh God, fuck that shite.
Mind you, working in the health service, we were lucky if we got jack shit for Christmas (as opposed to just plain old normal SHIT that we got all year ’round anyway) Usually it was just a box of Quality Street courtesy of Bed number 4’s mother whose little darling’s undescended balls had been sorted out…..deep joy.
That would last all of 5 minutes once the fat arse sister who did fuck all of a shift got her lardy hands on it, greedy cunt.
If there was a Secret Santa, knowing my luck I would end up with some useless cunt like those shite tricks you get in a cracker or an arse crack cleaner from one of those shite catalogues that plague letter boxes all fucking year.
Tell you what though, if I was lumbered with getting something for that Sister I would make damned sure she got a heavy duty laxative laced Christmas cake…….that would get her off her fat arse of a shift…..
4