Me Laird's Addition to Surerandomality Christmas Edition

There now follows an addendum to the Christmas Edition, from the N.Eastern England Correspondent.

Hello to those that know me, and errrm, I suppose I should be nice, hello to those that don't also. Following on from my evening with Squirrel last Monday I have proceeded to move back to the family home for Christmas and the New Year with little, or no idea, what I am doing when it actually arrives. Imagine my shock/horror/disbelief to find, upon pulling up the drive (a little under 1/4 of a mile long for those statto's out there) that the entire house now very closely resembles Santa's Grotto, and my old room has been shang-highed as a "Nursery" for my recently arrived Niece (She was actually born years ago, but my sister was 'with the Prince' (Valium, NOT Charles) for so long that she has only recently been rediscovered beneath an old Fortnum and Mason hamper, snuggly covered by copies of Forbes and Burkes Peerage. Anyway, due to the 'strategic domestic realignment' or nicking my old room, I have now been forced to move into the outbuildings, which means I don't have to have any daily contact with my beloved family!! This is where the problem comes, I had been in Manchester for 2 years, and was very used to the frequent visit's to Abdul's, Teasers, Casino (Viva Las Vegas), the, errrm 'shopping district' (I saw a mouse, where, there on the stair, where on the stair, right there) [ask Squirrel to explain that one hopalong] and now I find myself in a village with ONE public house (and its a Mansfield house at that) and errrm, no, that's it, no chippy, no Chinese (and when I say no Chinese, I mean no Chinese food, or people of ethnic origin, they just aren't PLU enough) it is 4 miles to the nearest chip-shop, 7 miles to a Pizza joint and forget getting a decent curry this side of Selby, in fact Hull is about 22 miles away and the only thing it has going for it is a fantastic Napoleons (Viva Las Vegas), a docks museum and a bigger 'shopping district'(I saw a mouse, where, there on the stair, where on the stair, right there)than Manchester; so please, when you are out this Christmas, and trying a DDT in the middle of the M6, or indulging in a spot of hit n run (Wes style, as in, getting twatted because you forgot to run) spare me a thought.

I would also like to counter the review of 'A Nightmare before Christmas', anyone who has actually studied this masterpiece will realize it's good for three things: 1) When you finally tell someone that old Santa Claus is actually a fraud it is also great to put this on the TV and glue the eyes of a small child open until all of the Holiday seasons have been trashed for them too [why the hell should I be the only one having to live life being cynical and free from bewildering magic] (apologies to those still under the misapprehension that he exists, Christ, you'll be expecting Man City to win something next) 2) It's better than Bridget Jones's Diary (come to think of it Russ Abbott’s Mad House is also better) 3) It is actually a social comment on the commercialization of holiday seasons, and an expression by Tim to show that all of the beliefs of modern day man are unfounded and built from a metamorphosis of more sinister ideals, from the town mayor who looks like Whizzbit after a night out with Squairrel to the Boogey Man who looks like BagPuss on a bad trip, it flies in the face of our whiter than white, prettier than pink cherry on top......hang on.....just realized.....yeah....it's shit!

Anyway, I am reliably informed that the 11:24 bus from the bottom of our drive actually gets into Hull before midnight tonight, if I am lucky there may even be another bus back before Tuesday!!! Take it steady folks, and apologies to those who have not enjoyed the ramblings of a sad old man hankering for the good life he has left behind, better go and make sure the hired hands aren't stealing the silver. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and don't do anything I wouldn't, which leaves u lots of scope, in fact, it leaves you with every option known to man other than a small Inn somewhere in Devon / The West Country and a certain young 'lady/man' (god that would be a 50/50 on Millionaire) who was the recipient of Squirrels infamous "When is it due" line......

Spav

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