Christmas time, social media and wine

In which G.M. Norton is his usual hypocritical self. Bah Humbug.

With the advent of social media, Christmas is becoming an endless stream of photographs containing Christmas trees, turkey dinners and piles of presents to announce the sudden visit and departure of every pogonophile’s wet dream, Mr. Father Christmas.

I’ve neglected to share such visual delights with people. Perhaps for fear of not having the best decorated tree, or because there weren’t enough stuffing balls on the plate I was carefully capturing on camera. Or perhaps I was just too busy enjoying the festivities with my family. I certainly preferred the good old-fashioned option of eating my Christmas dinner while it was hot rather than spend an aching amount of time trying to find the best composition to show it in it's best light.

At this juncture, I probably sound a little grumpy. I’m not, really. Just a little perplexed. I’m all for social media, it really is a wonderful beast but I feel it has the potential to expose me a little too much at times (especially after the infamous gap-in-the-trouser incident).

Anyway, now I’ve finished bemoaning modern technology on this electronic periodical, which you are probably reading on your fanciful new electronic device, I shall be a complete hypocrite and share some of the gifts that I found in my stocking. Because, my dear chum, that is how one rolls.

First up is the complete DVD collection of two of my favourite comedy shows – O-O-O-O-Open All Hours and Dad's Army. Hours of titters to follow.

Fifteen festive favourites (well, fourteen)

In which G.M. Norton answers questions about Christmas. 

 

A highly contagious epidemic has been spreading recently. Thankfully, I don't mean anything as nasty as the Norovirus. However, given that it involves blogging types, bile is known to come out of both ends at times (I include myself in this, I hasten to add).

 

The epidemic to which I am referring involves bloggers sharing fifteen of their favourite Christmassy things and then passing the cracker-shaped baton on to other bloggers to share their festive-related nonsense. Such a lark. I was tagged by the lovely Charlie off of Gin Fuelled Bluestocking.

 

So, without further comparisons to illnesses made in poor taste, here are my fourteen festive favourites (I omitted one about my 'favourite Christmas candle scent' because I'm in that kind of mood). 

 

Favourite festive food

 

Guilt-free cheese and crackers, washed down with a large glass of Port. I don't feel I need to elaborate any further.



Mad Dogs and Servicemen: "Mad Jack" Churchill

In which G.M. Norton celebrates the soldier who went to World War Two armed with a sword and a bow and arrow.

If you’ve not already made his acquaintance, please allow me to introduce you to Lieutenant Colonel John Malcolm Thorpe Fleming Churchill, or “Mad Jack” as he was known.

Churchill (no relation to Sir Winston) was a soldier in Second World War, whose exploits on the battlefield are the epitome of military romanticism.

Mad Jack

A highly-decorated soldier, Jack survived multiple explosions; successfully escaped from two prisoner of war camps; captured more than forty Nazis during a single raid, armed with just his sword; and became the only British soldier during Second World War to kill the enemy with a bow and arrow.

As Jack wryly commented, “Any officer who goes into action without his sword is improperly dressed.”

Give the gift of socks this Christmas

In which G.M. Norton explains how a gift of socks can be a joy to behold on Christmas morning.

Socks, the thoughtless yet practical Christmas gift for chaps who quite frankly, would still very much appreciate a train set. Due to such disappointing experiences, men have mastered the art of feigning gratitude for nondescript socks, probably purloined on a whim while stood in a department store queue.

Such a sorry episode is doing the sock a great disservice though. Cheap and nasty socks are an abomination. Dare I mention them, but novelty socks or those with days of the week emblazoned across are even more ghastly!

In truth though, if you are having trouble deciding what gift to present to the male of the species, then a luxurious pair of socks is a darn fine option. I would genuinely love to wake up on Christmas morning, and after consuming the traditional glass of dry sherry, be presented with an exquisitely wrapped parcel containing a pair of super soft socks.