Local man Jimmy Jammers is really letting himself go this Christmas and doesn’t care who knows.
“I spend all year at the gym on those fucking machines, drinking kale smoothies and sculpting my guns, but enough is enough. I’m getting in touch with my inner fat bastard.”
Armed with nothing but a fully stocked fridge & cupboard and a copy of the RTE Guide, Jammers is not planning to leave his armchair until he’s eaten everything in the house.
“I’ve everything I need – biscuits, chocolates, trifle, pudding, taytos and beer. That’s all the main food groups covered. Chuck in a few plates of turkey and spuds swimming in gravy and we’re cookin’ with gas.”
Jammers, who has commandeered his family sitting room for the duration, complete with duvet, pillows and buckets for his various ablutions, is unconcerned by the lack of support from his wife and children.
“They’re pissed at me, but only because they didn’t think of it first,” said Jammers as he polished off a sprout, Ferrero Rocher and stuffing sandwich washed down a bottle of Baileys. “They just need to keep the food coming and they can have the room when I’m back to work. They might want to open the windows first.”
