‘January, sick and tired you’ve been hanging on me’. So sang Scottish pop warblers Pilot back in the 70s, and I know how they felt.
The festive season is over and done, and the long slide through the year’s most miserable month begins. It’s a procession of dismal, dreary, dank days, each one of which gives way to a long, dark, cold night. There’s pissing rain and sleet, bitter wind and gales, snow, fog and ice. There are freezing hands, feet, noses and ears. Don’t forget coughs, colds and flu. It’s a cornucopia of delights.
And yet there are those who’ll tell you how much they like this time of year; ‘oooh, I love to draw the curtains, make a big pot of tea, and snuggle down in front of the fire to watch Emmerdale and Corrie’.
As the wife would say, ‘get tae fuck’. I can feel a bad attack of SAD creeping over me like a suffocating blanket. If I was a bear, I’d be hibernating for six months. The winter sucks. That goes double for January.
Nominated by : Ron Knee
Thank fuck it’s the 31st.
I hate winter, and I especially hate the 13 week month of January.
I’m with you, Ron. If I could fuck off somewhere else, where it’s going to be mild with sunshine, I would.
6
January means taxes and bills flooding in to me.
A month of panic, worry,
And stupid bastards who see fit to have birthdays right after Christmas.
A skint month.
A dark month.
It sucks balls.
6
ay up Mis, happy January to you and all the cunters.
My second-youngest came in to wake up my youngest so now the three of us are downstairs watching the assorted parade of dark hued ethnics on children’s television. Not really the thrust of the nom but always ceases to amaze me.
Oh, and we were up before the heating came on so it’s still bloody cold, and I blame January.
4
Morning Mickey👍
My kids are in their 30s now.
But remember having to watch 90s Saturday morning kids tv.
Power Rangers,
Didnt have a clue what was going on?
Sort of feverish epilepsy nightmare.
But they liked it!
Told em,
Rubbish this.
What you want is Ron Ely as Tarzan!
An Tiswas!
They ignored me though.
To buzy bouncing and jumping off the sofa😁
3
can’t say I’m familiar with any of that.
as a kid, we had some chirpy little cunt names ‘Bosco’ who spoke a gibberish of Oirish and English and a cartoon about a family of potatoes called the ‘McSpuds’ (wish that was a joke but it isn’t).
1
my silly old missus is one of those who tries to convince herself that being cosy and snug, warmed by a fire whilst outside the winds of heaven bawl is somehow better than being warmed by the sun whilst naked on a beach.
The Scandinavians called it ‘Hygge’ but I call it a cope.
6
There’s a lot to be said for a hyggelig aften.
Snow coming in sideways outside, log burner lit. A bottle of red warming slightly by the side of it.
Bowls of crisps, snacks and dips on the coffee table. The Housewolf warming your feet and a good film on TV, while the hot strawberry blond with an arse to die for cooks pepper steak and sauté potatoes with sauce for dinner.
A sense of contentment and wellbeing wash over you and everything in this moment is right in your world.
That’s hygge.
3
yeah ok, but substitute all that for warm beer, a blonde with sand up her chuff and sand flies biting her arse and your dog shaking sea water all over your food.
no comparison
4
This is one of the big reasons why I loathe Christmas – because it’s fucking clear what’s coming after that over-hyped tedious and wasteful consumer fest is done with; a crash to earth come-down that would give a smack addict the fear.
Were I given the liberty of excising this month from existence I’d just make my incision 7 days earlier and have the week proceeding from the 25th Dec onwards cut away with it.
3
January is only cold, dark and wet because of climate change, which is all the fault of us gammons.
The only answer is to return to the Stone Age.
Morning all.
5
Go to work in the dark and go home in the fucking dark. Bills to pay and to exacerbate the situation i indulge in a vicious cycle of retail therapy
5
I’ve seen loads of robins so it’s not been all bad.
Good morning.
4
This should cheer you up..
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cr579mdv4m7o
Fuck them.
4
“At its headquarters in Geneva, signs warning of the situation have been put up everywhere. In an almost desperate attempt to save cash, the escalators are regularly turned off and the heating turned down.”
cry me a fucking river. Maybe this lot could have a whip-round;
Grade Levels at UN;
P-4 (Senior Professional): Base salaries typically range between $90,970 and $117,287 per year.
P-5 (Principal Officer): Higher salary scale than P-4, often exceeding $120k-$130k base.
D-1/D-2 (Director Level): Director-level salaries can exceed $166,000 per year in locations like London.
all that is tax-exempt, naturally
1
I couldn’t agree more about January.
We had a couple of bad days.
It actually rained once.
Oh well, off to the beach later.
Good morning!
3
It’s the sad bastards on TV telling you another storm coming in. Well we don’t have to go out. Just watch another silly cunt fuck their engine up driving through floodwater. Schadenfreude at it’s finest.
1
Miserable…. what’s up with you all, January means Easter eggs in the supermarket, turkey butties for days on end,endless adverts from Jet2 do,do,do,do,do 🎶, only 11 more months till Christmas again, taking back all the useless 🎁, heating on full whilst you negotiate a new bank loan…. January always lots to do 😩
1
What a whingefest. Have I stumbled upon PinkNews by mistake?
A relative of mine lives on Svalbard, the Norwegian island in the Arctic Ocean. There’s no daylight at all in winter when temperatures are typically -20C, but can be as low as -35C. The prevailing wind can be a right cunt as well. Step outside the one town and you’ll likely be mauled to death by a polar bear.
It rather puts our winter travails into perspective.
Some of you lot need to man up.
5
never met anyone who’s said life feels better in winter…..and if I did then they’re a cunt and a liar.
2
Cold and grey is perfect for this country, as it turns into east Germany without the laughs.
Still fat quare Rodney has got us all 30 day visas to china, if you fancy a break from a authoritative,repressive regime.
All hail honourable leader.
3
Come on Ron … cheer up
I used to be the same. Hated 1 September, meant there was an R in the month for the next fucking eight months.
But as I got older and softer I realised that we had to have those dark months – otherwise how could we appreciate the beautiful Spring …
Glass is half full
1
Ron is fine, cheers himself up fantasising about JH-B and Rachel’s ample arse, then pops down to pharmacy to check his blood pressure.
0
Where I am located it hasn’t stopped raining ( apart for 1 day) for three fucking weeks..!
The Yorkshire water authority only just lifted a hosepipe ban on the 10th of December..
WTF…!!
Roll on summer…🌞
2
As far as I’m concerned, the misery starts in October/November.
Darkness, shit weather, the looming spectre of Christmas, the now obligatory energy price rises and the inevitable return of my fucking sciatica.
In fact, I’d go as far to say that my sense of impending doom starts in September.
‘Ooh. Look at the lovely colours of the leaves on the trees. I love this time of year’. Say people who are clearly trying to kid themselves.
No matter what, I find autumn and winter something to endure, rather than enjoy.
At least with January, as long arsed as it is and full of extremely inconvenient family birthdays, there’s a dim light at the end of the tunnel.
1
Wholesale gas prices are almost back to pre Putin invasion, if we weren’t sucked into the green net zero bollocks gas and leccy wouldn’t be that bad.
Notice that the ‘£150’ reduction announced by the government doesn’t come into effect until April when everyone’s usage goes down
Petrol prices have dropped by at least 10p, Rachel will losing 2 p VAT on every litre, more pain to come in the spring statement to pay for channel cunts and the bone idle.
1
Too hot, too cold, too wet, to dry never fucking satisfied.
Winter is great, no fucking screaming kids running around, too dark for the cunts to be out after school.
All that is missing is the strawberry blonde with a cracking arse.
Central heating running, burning that lovely gas, fuck you Miliband.
0
As somebody who has suffered from S.A.D, since before it was even named, and even become a fad, I have always thought the best thing Harold Wilson did was to keep Britain in permanent BST for three years, 1968-70, only ending when that pompous old queen Ted Heath (not the band leader) came in and went back to staid stuffy old Britain. What an EEC (EU) loving old cunt he was just like Starmer, fuck the old bummer.
Age makes it worse – when I was sailing the seven seas I didn’t think much about seasons, but now I am inclined to be ancient, I loathe dread and despise the GMT days – the days of fucking constant fireworks, poofters dancing every Saturday night on the BBC, the ailments Ron so rightly described (bloody fucking arthritis in the mix too) – from October to March life is just a constant trial. But – let’s look on the bright side – Kweer has left China,moved on to Japan, so there is still time for Dirty Ange to do a Lady Macbeth, perhaps arranging a bomb to be put on his plane, under his seat. Talking of seats, I wouldn’t like to be behind the old cunt if he blows off in the next few days – all that Chinky cuisine and now Jap. Those sweaty flabby buttocks could suffocate the whole of Westminster.
1
To fill my cup of joy to overflowing this January, I’ve been hit by an unbelievably vicious bronchitis-like respiratory tract infection, and boy, has it kicked the shite out of me this last ten days, most of which I’ve spent in bed, coughing, sweating and wheezing for England. The doc had to come to the house on Thurs, and put me on stronger antibiotics to the ones I was on.
This seems to happen to me every winter, and it gets a little bit worse each year. I loathe January anyway, and this year’s been twice as bad because of this.
Oh well.
For what it’s worth, morning all.
0
January is just the fucking pits.
Lasts about 8 weeks and I’ve had about 3 different minor cold bugs or whatever which have just sat on me, refusing to fuck off.
Not enough to make me feel ill or anything close to it but whenever I have to do anything remotely physical, snot and dribble is oozing out of my hooter.
Which brings me on to another gripe.
Being guilt tripped and emotionally blackmailed by all and sundry, into going out drinking in overcrowded pubs, just before or during the Christmas break.
Shoulder to shoulder, packed like sardines in poorly ventilated pubs, breathing and coughing all over everyone and everything, leading inevitably to catching fucking cold bugs just in time for January.
Makes perfect sense
I hate January
0
I used to love slinging my dads army coat blanket off me in the middle of a freezing January morning to go down stairs into the cold outside toilet because the potty under the bed was full of piss and rush back to bed to get my bare feet warm in one of the blankets pockets. Mam used to think if covered up with something heavy it’s bound to keep you warm. I would stay there trying to keep warm after the brick in the bed was now stone cold. There wasn’t any need to get up due to no food in the house and having to wait until we’re able to use the ration book again. The wireless wasn’t working due to the accumulator battery needed to be taken for charging.
0