May your Christmas tree catch fire.
May you stand on an upturned plug while barefoot.
May you contract syphilis and have to wear a bell around your neck to warn others of your mankyass, thieving presence.
May you lose all the money you have stolen from decent people trying to buy a present for a loved one as you get beaten up by a rabid, knuckleduster-wearing pimp in a case of mistaken identity you absolute cunt.
Have a terrible Christmas and a horribly shite New Year.
As it happens, my effing stellar boyfriend has saved the day, as his aunt had put her name on a waiting list and is collecting the game for me tomorrow. Professor Layton had better be the most amazing fucking thing since sliced bread after all this.