Well, nearly. It only just hit when I was talking to my brother on the phone yesterday and he was talking about us coming down for crimbo. Then I started to think about how it's his birthday too, so I have to buy him extra presents. That's fine. I'm quids in at the moment. Rich beyond my wildest dreams. Despite the fact I just paid a strange man £90 to fiddle around with my arial a bit so I can get a few extra channels on my tv.

So, as I was saying, over christmas we're going down to Brighton, which should be class. Although it does mean leaving on christmas morning (which means waking early, boo!) but subsequently results in extra presents. And then we're coming home on boxing day to have another celebration with more family (which means yet more presents!). Christmas shall be fun this year.

Obviously, as is christmas tradition, one must open many presents, eat too much, maybe get drunk and/or kissed under the mistletoe from a weird uncle (I don't have any weird uncles, and we don't use mistletoe, but I thought I should mention it anyway), but one must stop and think about the baby jesus, and how if it wasn't for him, we'd not have christmas.

Of course, when I say 'one must', one is not talking about oneself, because oneself will probably be too drunk to think about Jesus. Unless I'm thinking about the rabbit Jesus, who'll have to be all alone at christmas, fending off unwanted attention from the little pisher, Jesse.

I'm watching the old Moulin Rouge on film 4. It's class. Obviously not an enchanting as Ewan McGregor was, but still class.

Anyways, I'm off to spread more christmas cheer (STI's (same difference)), so Merry christmas to all, and to all a good night.

xxx

P.s. If you were wondering, Morrissey was fucking class, althuogh I think I enjoyed the jaxx a bit more. Sorry Mozza.

P.p.s (or P.s.s, or P.i.s.s) Tom and I went to town last weekend and I bought a £165 scarf from burberry, and no, it is not chequered.