25 years and mad chrismassy/highly depressing reach for grain alcohol cheeriness: That’s right, Fairytale of New York

Hey Keating, ye prick. This is how to lean against sumthin

Hey Keating, ye prick. This is how to lean against sumthin

Stretch has said it before and he’ll say it again. Kirsty McColl is dead and Ronan Keating still walks this earth.

His pathetic version of this song wasn’t the abomination that would bring the end of days. I may have exaggerated. To my family and friends, I am sorry for putting you through that. It seemed a viable threat. His stupid stubbled chin and life dramas and the way he leans against shit when he sings and his stupid affair with a woman equally as ugly as his wife who in turn is equally ugly as him seemed to suggest the apocalypse. Again I’m sorry.

Anyways, here’s the song that makes most people kind of melancholic, ruining most Christmas parties where this is a catalyst for crying and having to listen to people’s innermost bullshit. Keep it to yourself and go back to listening to self-help crooners Elbow.

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