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"My stuffed seal gives me comfort."

Not sure if real or epic trolling:

James Fisher, 28, a journalist from London, will be spending Christmas largely alone.

“I’m in my flat in Battersea, I might go for a nice Christmas walk with a friend later and I’ve got an army of venus fly traps to plant.

“It’s a very different Christmas for sure, but I’m doing my best. I’m treating myself to some breakfast champagne, I’ve got my Christmas jumper on, I’ve got my tree up. It’s my mum’s birthday today, so it would have been nice to see her, but I’ll visit my parents once they’ve had the vaccine. My stuffed seal gives me comfort.”

I know what he means. I have a well-mounted barn owl.

Sent from my karzi while losing several pounds

I hope you use plenty of lubricant
Just in case Mr. Fisher ever feels the need to see what real hardship at Christmas is like.



There really is two world's out there, isn't there? The world where a grown man complains about being sad at Christmas but relying on his stuffed seal to get through it as he plants his Venus fly-traps, and the world the rest of us live in.

And yet The Guardian thinks he's the normal one and we are the strange weird types.

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