A friend and I have taken it upon ourselves to concoct a number of counter-greetings cards for the reason of comedy. I am not hugely assured of my ability to assemble these subversive pieces, and as such I have decided to workshop ideas directly into a blog. This foreword is more a warning that an introduction, it is to tell you that I am merely pumping out as many ideas as I can in the hope that a small number of them will stick. They might be good, they might not be, let’s find out.
I’ll start by attempting some subversive, subversive Christmas ones.
On the front of the card there is a depiction of a snowy town, smoke puffing from chimneys like in the oldy-olden days, snow piled high on the houses, the gardens and the road. Inside the card there is photograph looking into a car through the windscreen. The windscreen is smashed and a woman lies splayed in the driver’s seat, with her face drenched in blood and badly mangled. There could possibly be two little tykes in the back similarly disfigured, depending on how wrong you really want to make the card. The text at the very top of the page would read: “White Christmases cause 1,000,000 RTAs. Don’t bitch about the gritters.”
An alternative would be a card depicting a family living room, bedecked with christmas tree, stockings, trimmings, half eaten pie and sipped sherry, and excited children gleefully sprinting towards base of the tree, which is stuffed with toys, while sickeningly twee parents watch on from the doorway. Inside the card read: “Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. But we want presents, so screw the execrable oik.” (or maybe slightly stronger language, depending on the target audience).
A card depicting a green Santa shaking his fist and glaring out of the card. The text inside reads: “I used to be green, before coca-cola got their filthy fucking mitts on my colour scheme. Trust such an insidious corporation to engender themselves into the public consciousness in such a sinister manner.”
The front of another card depicts a near-naked Celt, with his hair spiking out madly, huge sickle in hand, ferocious grimace upon his face, charging at a turkey in order to tear it to pieces. Text inside reads: “God isn’t real, Jesus isn’t a definite historical entity, christmas is a capitalist monster that eats away at your pocket. But don’t worry because it’s all based on ancient pagan festivals anyway, so fuck it, go mad.” (I realise that Celts and Pagans may not wholly overlap, but I like the look of Celts so we’ll go with that.)
My final Christmas card has huge thick writing over the front. It reads: “Important and Private for
An idea for an anniversary card to a couple from a very religious background: Picture depicts a family around a dinner table, all with sunken faces and dead eyes. Text inside reads: Yes, your marriage has lasted a long time, religiously arranged marriages stereotypically do. This is due to the repressive nature of your religious faith, and how it is reinforced in the wider religious community. Does the length and endurance of your marriage make up for the fact that your soul has been destroyed due to the unfulfilling nature of your unhealthy relationship? It is going to last forever and ever and ever and ever. And ever”.
'Dear canvassing-religious-person, yes I have thought about god, at length in fact. I have come to the conclusion that the idea of a god that is all-powerful and essentially good is a preposterous notion, given the inequality that is inherent in life on this planet. There is no natural fairness, no natural justice, there is merely life, make of it what you can'. Inside this particular card there would merely be the words ‘GROW UP’ printed in the very centre.
I am tempted to attempt a ‘sorry for your loss’ card to the relatives of a suicide bomber, although it would likely read ‘Congratulations’. I won’t do that though. Although I sort of just did.
Be my valentine, or else.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You don’t know me,
But I’m obsessed with you.
Your eyes are black,
Your eyes are blue,
The swelling around them,
Makes it hard for you to see,
That I love you.
I used to be a sailor,
So you’ll never untie those knots,
You just sit in my attic,
Peeing in my pots.
The roses are red,
Your face is a dull blue,
You sit there going off,
I’ll never go off you.
A card from a student to his/her parents.
“Yeah I passed, unfortunately due to the recession there are no jobs available and so I am going to have to sponge off’ve you until we escape this financial crisis. Love you”.
Blasphemous, morbid, economic and ruinous to childhood, a bit of a hectic selection, I think that’s enough for a start. I apologise if any offence was caused by any of my ideas. If there was I guess my advice is: just pretend you didn’t read it.
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