Who needs a partridge in a pear tree?? Unless they’re holding a shotgun at the time, like Prince Edward’s son and heir, and its hunting season. For those who like semi-mouldy birds filled with lead pellets. Unlike me. I don’t like ‘game’ particularly. Much as I don’t like West Ham particularly, and they lost to Chelsea today so we have to wait and see how that affects their SSD. Seasonal Smugness Disorder. Or Football Seasonal smugness Out of Order. As the case may be.

But all those swans-a-swimmin and lords-a-leapin and all that bollox; who needs that? Maids-a-milkin has potential, and you do get eight of them, but quite frankly, you can keep the rest, my ‘true love’.

On the first day of Chris-mas my true love gave to me:
The best turkey anyone’s ever cooked, other than Jamie Oliver but he’s a nob, and Nigella, and she cheats. Our turkey was sublime. So that was brilliant. And everyone said it was the best turkey they’d ever eaten. Though I was still holding the carving knife at the time of asking.

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me:
3 points at Leicester. Brilliant and, once again, apparently completely undeserved, and again, once again, Erikssen scores the winner late in a game when we’re not looking too good.

AND

Sky Sports, as for some legal reason unable to show a game of football at 3 o’clock, even on a Friday, showed instead ‘the best goals of 2014’. No commentary, no ‘talking heads’, or even ‘talking morons’, like they usually have; they didn’t list them, nor rank them, nor get some tossers to vote, they just showed brilliant goals from all over Europe, as far away as Galataseray, Barcelona and Hartlepool..

On the third day of Christmas my true love is giving to me:
Tai Chi at 8.15 in the morning. And having not moved from a dinner table in 3 days, other than to turn on the tv, open another bottle of wine and stagger to bed, physical activity is as wanted as it is trying.

On the 4th day of Christmas my true love is bringing:
Manchester United to White Hart Lane. Not sure whether that is ‘5 go-old rings’ or 3 French Hens.

On the 5th day of Christmas I’m flying to Rio and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit much after that. Though I’d be fibbing if I wasn’t planning just a little trip to see the Maracana, a search for Pele so I can prostrate myself in front of him (and take a selfie), and spend time on the Copa Cobanna looking for the women’s beach vollyball team. And mugging Brazilians before they can mug me.

Happy Boxing Day.

A xxxx