Well the wedding anniversary has passed, so ‘tis time to deck the lair with seasonal mementos.
The scary snow woman is in place and the Tudor costumed china hares are out of their wrapping.
‘Please don’t put them out Mummy,’ came the plaintive cry of Boy, each year when One’s stylish ornaments came down from the attic, ‘They make me have bad dreams!’
Bah sodding hum-fecking-bug!
Any road up, now Boy is off Yule-tiding with his amour and Vile-ex-husband is merry making with the Snaggle Toothed Troll et al, One can stuff whatever One likes up wherever One likes!
‘Tis a salutary lesson to One and one and all that even though One shagged One’s tits off in order for Boy to be secure in the Underground Lair until he had finished being off sick from school, One is the one left on One’s lone-tiddly-ownsome.
Still, all the more Pinot G pour moi! In fact pour moi one right now!
One shall be taking to the airwaves this Friday am to wax lyrical about Christmas in the 1950’s with Princess P. Obv, whilst Princess P was snogging boys under the mistletoe, One was viewing the festive events from behind the bars of One’s cot!
Any road up, One’ll do anything for a mince pie and a small sherry.