Get thee behind me Santa.

I'm shit at buying Xmas presents.

The minute I enter a shop, I forget everything I know about a person.
I can't remember their size, likes and dislikes, favourite music
or anything they've ever eaten.
Like a nightmare exam that I will inevitably fail, I fumble around,
smelling sweaters and eating handmade organic soaps, hoping
to trigger some memory of this person I once knew.

I've just been in John Lewis looking at all the completely inappropriate
presents. I ended up buying myself a shoehorn.

You see?
Buggered.

Once I bought a very stylish designer a ceramic chicken
you put eggs in. She bought me Issey Miyake cologne.

We're not friends anymore.