Every year on this day I set forth my expectations of your faithful desire to handover a decent present to me as a tribute to me for having made it through another bloody year.
And every year it is the same old tat (or excuses in some cases) what I get.
It is simply not good enough, and I will not put up with it any more at all, at all.
It is not only disrespecting me big time a lot, it is also undignifying in extremity my position of lording it over you.
This year you better sort yourselves out as I'm not even going to bother to beg.
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