Taking the Mick

Praying for a Buble-free Crimbo

Quick! Call the rozzers! Christmas has been hijacked! Oh, hold on, no it hasn't, it's just Michael Bublé and his Crimbo album. It might as well be a hijacking though. You'd think that Micky Bubbles - as we call him in our cave - has bloody well invented Christmas, the way he's being slathered all over the nation. 
For fuck's sake, he's on the radio and telly so much that I've started mistaking him for Santa. Kraken Junior thinks that on Crimbo Eve a grinning Canadian warbler is going to drop down the chimney just to initiate her into his housewife-cluttered fan base. 
In fact, between his crooning rendition of Silent Night and his nice-guy persona it's a Christmas miracle that ITV/ Daily Mail/ the hags from Loose Women haven't mustered their own hijacking of Bubbles himself, kidnapping him just to drool over his middle-of-the-road style of innocuousness.
Look, I'm sure that he's a lovely guy. But can someone just turn the man off now? I dunno, send him to Labrador where he can bang out Little Donkey without it representing another assault on our tellies/ radios/ festive sensibilities.
That's it, Bubbles. Bugger off to your own baubles and leave ours to dangle in peace.