It’s Christmas again. That day that everyone says comes quicker and quicker every year, only it doesn’t, does it? In fact, every four years, it takes a day longer to come.
I bet you can’t guess what I got for Christmas this year. Well, I won’t bet you actually. You’re a diary and you have no money. Anyway, I got this diary. I’ve wanted one for years but no-one ever bothered to buy me one. My wife reckons I’ll keep it for a week or so and then get bored. I don’t know what she is getting at, it’s a diary, not a dog!
Today had its highlights and its lowlights. Oh! And some candlelights. My attempt at a bit of humour! Didn’t work, did it? Anyhow, today’s highlight was the Doctor Who Christmas Special. Don’t let anyone tell you that this isn’t what Christmas is all about. I don’t want to watch the friggin’ Snowman or the Wizard of Oz. Why would anyone? These TV people haven’t got the message yet, have they? Apart from Doctor Who, our TV license is a complete rip off.
You know what else was on today? Here I go again, chatting away to an inanimate object. I may not have had a diary before but I know they don’t talk. So back to what’s been on TV. Songs of Praise from the Albert Hall. Now what a huge lie that is. Not very Christian of them, I have to say. Thou shall not lie, my arse! They like us to believe it’s a Christmas show, when in fact I know it’s filmed in the summer. I know because my wife went a few years ago. To be honest, I’ve had enough of that Aled Jones this Christmas. Earlier on he was squawking about walking in the air, now he’s singing Christmas carols. Who’s Carol anyway?
It’s night time now and we’re all stuffed after our Christmas meal. It was our turn to entertain the in-laws this year, so out went boring turkey and in came a nice rack of beef, Yorkshire puds and most of the trimmings. I say ‘most’ because I will not have that wicked spawn of Satan known as ‘sprouts’ in my house.
I was right too, I feel sick tonight. It’s Christmas though. What’s Christmas all about if you can’t eat yourself stupid?
It’s time to stop writing now, time for bed.