“I’m podged now”
I expect those of us who celebrate Christmas will be well podged at some point.
Then there’s the small matter of alcohol. People will bring out the wine, the beer, the eggnog, the single malt.
Some of us will overindulge *cough* and no doubt end up praying to the porcelain god, should we be lucky enough to get that far.
Before the alcohol induced chundering takes place, the mistletoe is likely to cause mischief.
There’s always that one drunk, standing by the mistletoe, waiting for his prey. The prey usually being someone’s wife or girlfriend.
When he steals his moment he’ll launch a full-on attack, sucking face and playing tonsil-tennis.
Until boyfriend or husband sees him and knocks his block off, smacks him in the chops, punches his lights out, gives him a twatting, or knocks seven shades of shit out of him.
In the worst eventuality, at least for the one concerned, the dirty old perv will end up brown bread.