Friday 6 January 2017 by Harry Palmer

Christmas tree wondering what the f*ck it’s done wrong


Christmas Tree bin

A Christmas tree in Edinburgh’s fashionable New Town is pondering what heinous act it could have committed to warrant being left out by the communal bins to be urinated on by passing dogs.

Nordmann Fir, Simon Williams, had been enjoying being the centrepiece of a middle-class family’s festivities and was shocked to find himself stripped of all decorations and dumped on the street to await mulching by the local Council.

“Was it something I said?” asked Williams.

“A couple of weeks back I was the star of the show. The kids kept saying how beautiful I was and I was the focal point of all the photographs. Check it out; I’m all over Facebook.

“Then yesterday it was tinsel off and out on your arse me old son. I don’t remember offending anyone, and I didn’t disgrace myself at the New Year’s Eve piss-up, unlike some I could mention.

“I didn’t even shed my needles, not a single one. And now I’m out here being sniffed at by foxes and pissed on by all and sundry, and its brass fucking monkeys an’ all.

“Christmas isn’t all it’s cracked up to be right enough.

“Having to listen to Grandad prattling on about how ‘Brexit means Brexit’, have another sprout you drunken old sod. And if I ever hear one more screeching violin recital of jingle bells and have to stand there with that stupid fixed fucking grin on my face, Jesus.

“Oh no here comes next door’s Labrador again, I swear to Christ this bastard could piss for Britain.”

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