Peeling Potatoes #30 Christmas Was Cancelled (Apparently)

Alright.
Deep breath.
Kettle on.
Pull up a chair.

What follows is not a cleaned-up transcript.
It’s not minutes.
It’s not “content”.

The Mayor & Fruitloop, December 2025

Fruitloop is guzzling something when we start.
The Mayor squints at the screen.

“Water?”
“Yes.”
“It’s 20 to 12 over there.”
“Yes.”
“Bit early for a drink, isn’t it?”
“A little bit.”
“A little bit.”
“And only one cup of coffee.”

The Mayor is horrified.
Morally. Spiritually. Caffeinally.

“One cup of coffee is inhumane.”

Fruitloop shrugs.
“It’s too hot.”

The Mayor is visibly depressed by this information.

We do weather, because of course we do.

Northern Central European paradise:
25 degrees.
Sun.
A few clouds behaving themselves.
Laundry day.

Laundry day becomes a moment.
Who irons.
Who doesn’t.
Fruitloop has a strict no-ironing policy.
The Mayor remains fascinated by this radical stance.

Thirty episodes.
Thirty weeks.
Minus a few.
Gallivanting occurred.
In Kruger.
In Korea.
We agree that gallivanting was mutual.

Then we hit it.

The Crisis

“We have a problem, Fruitloop.”
“Yes. A big one.”

Christmas has been cancelled.
Nobody told us.

The media, apparently, has failed again.
Too busy with bad news to mention that Christmas is no longer happening.

Suspicious.

Who cancelled it?

We don’t know.

Maybe Santa did it himself.
Maybe he staged his own kidnapping.
Maybe he’s tired.

Have you seen his workload?

One man.
One night.
Hundreds of millions of homes.
Chimneys of wildly inconsistent dimensions.

The Mayor starts doing the maths.
This is always dangerous.

34 hours.
238 million households.
1,900 homes per second.

Fruitloop listens calmly.

Still in.

The Job Interview

An idea emerges.
Naturally.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says the Mayor,
“may I present the future of Christmas.”

Mrs Claus.

Fruitloop accepts the role with alarming enthusiasm.

The perks are excellent:

• 364 (sometimes 365) days paid vacation
• Central heating in Lapland
• Mulled wine
• Biscuits
• Elves
• Reindeer who already know the route

The downsides:

• One extremely intense workday
• Mild sleigh sickness
• Dogs
• Cats
• Alcohol left out by enthusiastic adults

Still in.

She likes mince pies.
She has experience being quiet.
She’s good with navigation.
She’s unfazed by near-light-speed travel.

Magic solves the rest.

“Once I take the job,” Fruitloop explains patiently,
“I get the magic.”

Ah.
That clears everything up.

Why Christmas Might Actually Be Cancelled

Maybe Santa’s tired.
Maybe adults are tired.

Social media says Christmas is a money-making scheme.
Too much food.
Too much pressure.
Too much forced joy.

Fruitloop admits:

• Christmas tree was late
• It was raining
• Storage rooms are treacherous places

The Mayor admits:

• No tree at all
• A few decorations scattered like evidence
• Michael Bublé on a near-constant loop, controlled by forces beyond his authority

Mariah Carey has not yet appeared.
George Michael is missing.
Boney M is… controversial.

Reality Check: The World Outside

In Germany:

• Butter is 40% cheaper
• People panic-buy and freeze it
• Everyone drives politely
• Parking spaces are gifted like acts of kindness

In South Africa:

• Kamikaze December drivers
• Screeching tyres
• Kids on motorbikes
• Neighbours screaming Spongebob Squarepants through shared walls

Fruitloop finally snaps one day and goes next door.

“Please keep it down.”

They apologise.
They leave for holiday.
Peace descends.

Christmas miracle.

Family, Food & Fallout

Fruitloop’s family Christmas happens early.
There is a theme.
Countries.
New dishes.
Excitement.

Afterwards:
Fruitloop is sick as a dog.
White light.
Existential negotiations.

Possibly punishment for agreeing last.
WhatsApp democracy strikes again.

The Mayor diagnoses:

• Violation of engagement rules
• Power dynamics
• Christmas conspiracy

Fruitloop insists:
“It was actually an amazing idea.”

If Christmas Is Cancelled…

We propose a replacement.

International Couch Potato Day.
25 December.

The whole world:

• Stops
• Lies down
• Reflects
• Rethinks
• Recovers

No shopping.
No bickering.
Furniture inclusive.

Three days of global stillness.

We briefly worry about noisy neighbours,
but they’re on holiday until January.

Problem solved.

Presents, Or Lack Thereof

Fruitloop wants:

• One thing
• A small pink handbag
• With a working zip

Expectations: low.

Her husband wants… nothing.
Or avoids the question wisely.

She buys him a book:

• One page a day
• Minimal reading
• Rugby-concussion-friendly

The Mayor:

• Wants a lamp
• Gets a jumper instead
• Is now guarding it until Christmas like a moral test

His mother’s memory is fading.
The jumper sits behind him.
Unworn.
Waiting.

Shoes, Resolutions & Reality

Running shoes are discussed.
They are shockingly expensive.
3,000 to 11,000 rand.

Conclusion:

• You must try them on
• Influencers lie
• Feet decide

Christmas lists are unrealistic.
Adults buy their own dreams now.

The Truth

We started by saying Christmas was cancelled.

We ended by talking about:

• Food
• Presents
• Music
• Families
• Quiet hope

So maybe it wasn’t cancelled.

Maybe it just had a slow start.

Santa might be tired.
Adults might be grumpy.
But the thing itself?

Still here.

Closing the Year

Fruitloop agrees to become Mrs Claus.
Starting December 2026.
With elves.
Magic.
And 364 days of vacation.

She still needs something to do.

The Mayor smiles.

“Funny you should mention that…”

We thank each other.
We thank the Brida community.
The two trillion listeners (minus most of them).

We laugh.
We mean it.

Christmas is not cancelled.
Not even close.

From Fruitloop & The Mayor
Thank you for the ride, 2025.
See you in January 2026.

🎄
🥔
❤️