That’s One’s tree that is, Dear Reader… One knitted it yester-eve whilst listening to the Carol concert. Yeah right, One could well have done some serious damage with One’s hand-turned, designer, bamboo knitting needles following the inhalation of a bottle of BF’s finest Mulled rocket fuel.
Any who, a joyous Noel to every last one of you what hangs on One’s every word.
What Christmas stocking would be complete without a carrot sharpener and a ball of string? Two of the many gifts, gratefully received, from BF. (She’s still on the strong pain killers) One can’t let her stop taking them in order to get the disabled parking ticket so we can park right outside Primarni.
Another delightful gift came in the shape of the recently published ‘Vinegar and Brown Paper’, written by the Pinkster’s uber cool and talented Dear Mama, Mary Baker. One shall treasure it for the continuation of One’s visit to planet earth.
(Available to download from Amazon.) Get it now!
As you may be aware, Dear Reader, One doesn’t have a Christmas Cancer, so Boy won’t be receiving the gift of a Womb of Doom in a jar this year. One shall be loitering about annoying everyone well into One’s dotage if One doesn’t have cirrhosis of the livington following the neckage of many a box of the Co-op’s finest in the four-fecking-teen week wait for the results of the biopsy.
‘There’s absolutely nothing to worry about,’ came the message on One’s phone, ‘but call me on *****’
Like feck One will. If there’s nothing to worry about they’re not plunging anything else up me chuffer in the near future!
Any road up, One must adjourn to the galley and make ready the fatted calf for the visitation of Boy and the A of the F…