May Santa bring you all you want. May the beer be long lived, the relatives...no quite so. May those of you with little ones drink up every second of their magic day. May your dinner be a feast. May your troubles vanish for a while with the first sherry and pair of socks.
But most of all, may all of you, every last dribbling mental cunt of you, stay warm, safe, well fed, well "watered" and well loved.
Except Andrew King, naturally. He can sit at home, on his miserable own, and wait for Jacob Marley. "You're more of kebab than of cadiver"

