SANTA PROBABLY DRIVES A RIDE-ON MOWER

 

The high drone with mosquito-like insistence heralds summer mornings in the suburbs.  Swarms of garden elves are firing up.

“All I want for Christmas… is my neighbour’s whipper snipper to die!”

– the accident and emergency doctor’s wife.

Further north the sentiments are more explicit:

“Neighbour getting busy with his mowing and whipper snippering right outside my bedroom window.
It is Sunday morning for fucks sake.”

– a primary school teacher who has been on holidays for over a week.

Neighbourhood tensions.  A natural by-product of having a list of things that simply need doing.

Two days before Christmas.

Peace on earth.

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