The provinces
Arrived in Worcester yesterday. Knackered. Too knackered to do anything that wasn't sitting on sofa gawping at telly.
Family's choice of telly: 'Harry Hill's TV burp'. My stepdad is keen on this programme. He 'didn't used to understand it, but now he has figured out what Harry Hill is getting at'.
For those who haven't seen this illustrious piece of programming: Harry Hill, a sartorially skilled egg, presents clips excised from various TV offerings of the past week, which may be amusing out of context, in context, or just pleasing to those who are glad to see a familiar face in the flickering rectangle in the corner. Mr. Hill then comments on the clip, explaining to the hard of thinking what was funny about it. You are now suitably prepared for the televisual fest I saw last night:
*clip from Nigella Lawson plays* Nigella (in caressing tones, while tossing her hair and making every movement slow and seductive): And this is a lovely, succulent tagine, ripe with dates, apricots, cumin and lamb. An exotic feast that will be a hit with all your Christmas Eve guests. Good for fortifying you before you and your pampas-grass loving neighbours all engage in a rampant, middle-class, considerate orgy on the shag pile, oiled with coco de mer lubricant and making tasteful use of diamond-studded insertables....
Harry Hill's hilarious comment: "This is supposed to be a Christmas meal! Who have you got coming round, Osama Bin Laden?"
I can only agree. As we all know, the baby who puts the Christ in Christmas was in fact born in Oxfordshire, amidst rolling green hills, and any persistent presence of dates, spices and other frankly un-English foods at his feast day is only there as a concession to the Magi, the token ethnic nativity participants who couldn't handle the blandness of Mary and Joseph's native cuisine. It's a little known fact that the only reason the shepherds were invited was to keep the christening party overwhelmingly white.
Proper English people, who aren't terrorists, eat only proper age-old British produce at Christmas, like turkeys and potatoes. If you see anyone eating spicy food or dates this Christmas, report them to the anti-terrorism squad, who if they're not too busy bugging MPs or deporting doctorate students will be pleased to hold them for months without charge and electrocute their genitals.
In other news I enquired about the possibility of decorating the house with Christmas decorations. I was told that the problem with getting them down from the loft is that then thay have to be put up again.
Probably no tree/decorations this year then.
Family's choice of telly: 'Harry Hill's TV burp'. My stepdad is keen on this programme. He 'didn't used to understand it, but now he has figured out what Harry Hill is getting at'.
For those who haven't seen this illustrious piece of programming: Harry Hill, a sartorially skilled egg, presents clips excised from various TV offerings of the past week, which may be amusing out of context, in context, or just pleasing to those who are glad to see a familiar face in the flickering rectangle in the corner. Mr. Hill then comments on the clip, explaining to the hard of thinking what was funny about it. You are now suitably prepared for the televisual fest I saw last night:
*clip from Nigella Lawson plays* Nigella (in caressing tones, while tossing her hair and making every movement slow and seductive): And this is a lovely, succulent tagine, ripe with dates, apricots, cumin and lamb. An exotic feast that will be a hit with all your Christmas Eve guests. Good for fortifying you before you and your pampas-grass loving neighbours all engage in a rampant, middle-class, considerate orgy on the shag pile, oiled with coco de mer lubricant and making tasteful use of diamond-studded insertables....
Harry Hill's hilarious comment: "This is supposed to be a Christmas meal! Who have you got coming round, Osama Bin Laden?"
I can only agree. As we all know, the baby who puts the Christ in Christmas was in fact born in Oxfordshire, amidst rolling green hills, and any persistent presence of dates, spices and other frankly un-English foods at his feast day is only there as a concession to the Magi, the token ethnic nativity participants who couldn't handle the blandness of Mary and Joseph's native cuisine. It's a little known fact that the only reason the shepherds were invited was to keep the christening party overwhelmingly white.
Proper English people, who aren't terrorists, eat only proper age-old British produce at Christmas, like turkeys and potatoes. If you see anyone eating spicy food or dates this Christmas, report them to the anti-terrorism squad, who if they're not too busy bugging MPs or deporting doctorate students will be pleased to hold them for months without charge and electrocute their genitals.
In other news I enquired about the possibility of decorating the house with Christmas decorations. I was told that the problem with getting them down from the loft is that then thay have to be put up again.
Probably no tree/decorations this year then.