Mr Christmas

Behold, a curious tome entitled "Mr Christmas," penned by none other than Roger Hargreaves in the auspicious year of 1984, a year when mullets were the height of fashion and cassette tapes ruled the audio realm. This delightful creation, released by the illustrious Thurman Publishing, promises to take you on a whimsical journey into a world where every day is a festive occasion—complete with a jingle or two, if you’re lucky. Now, you might be thinking, “Isn’t Christmas just once a year?” Ah, but dear reader, who says we must adhere to the draconian calendar? With Mr Christmas, the merriment is as perpetual as the strain of “Last Christmas” that haunts us in every shopping mall in December.

Absolutely brilliant story that will improve your life no end and after you have done reading it you can give it to the kids or your partner or something.

The only thing I want to know is how does he do stuff with such short hands?

Our dear Mr Christmas, clothed in his cheery red attire, embodies the spirit of the season with such fervour that one might suspect he’s had a rather severe case of holiday cheer. But fret not! This is no ordinary Christmas caper; it’s a riotous celebration of all things merry, wherein you’ll encounter a veritable smorgasbord of questionable decisions and questionable character design—because let’s face it, Hargreaves has a flair for creating figures that could only be described as “delightfully bizarre.”

As you flip through the pages, you might find yourself pondering such pressing questions as: What exactly happens when Mr Christmas decides to throw a party for all his oddball friends? Are there enough Christmas cookies in the world to satisfy a gathering of this magnitude? And why does that peculiar green character lurking in the background remind you of your Uncle Frank after too much eggnog? Rest assured, these burning inquiries will be addressed in the most surreal of fashions.

In the grand tradition of early ’80s children’s literature, the illustrations teem with an unpolished charm—think colour palettes that could only be described as ‘boldly questionable’ and character proportions that defy the laws of physics. Each page turns with the anticipation of discovering what absurdity lies within next, much like unwrapping gifts from your least favourite relatives, just in time for the awkward silence that follows. This book is a delightful reminder that not all festivities need to be polished; some can be a charmingly chaotic affair.

But let’s not forget the societal implications that Mr Christmas inadvertently presents. Is he a figure of unrelenting cheer, or a harbinger of forced merriment? Could Mr Christmas be the embodiment of our collective denial regarding the seasonal stress? This book doesn’t dare to tackle the deeper questions of life—no, that would be too heavy for our friend clad in red. Instead, it opts for a light-hearted romp through tinsel-laden absurdity, perfect for those who prefer their literature with a side of irony.

Condition: Used, but richly imbued with the scent of nostalgia and perhaps a hint of last year’s gingerbread. The spine is cracked, a testament to its well-loved past, while the pages carry the fingerprints of countless holiday revelers who have smiled, laughed, and possibly cried over its eccentricities. The cover shows signs of wear, suggesting it has been hastily shoved into bags or perhaps even used as a makeshift table for overflowing cups of spiced cider.

In conclusion, if you’re in the market for a hilariously chaotic experience that nudges at the absurdity of holiday cheer without actually addressing any of your deep-seated yuletide issues, then Mr Christmas is the perfect addition to your collection. So why not grab a copy from Crappy Old Books, where your next literary adventure could very well be a whimsical jaunt with a character who may or may not inspire you to reconsider your approach to the festive season? After all, who wouldn’t want a little absurdity alongside their mulled wine?

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