I can’t think of a single thing I want this Christmas other than a holiday (that’s lucky, as we’re meeting as a family in Portugal). There really isn’t anything I want at all so I’m writing a non-material wish list.

*Can people please stop jeering at civil servants whose wages happen to be paid by taxpayers? Yes, yada yada.
*Can we introduce compulsory labour in that exact field for people who do?
*Can people please stop sneering at the working classes and folk who shop in certain shops?
*Can people stop buying certain newspapers?
*Can people stop demonising anyone under the age of 21?
*Can we (that’s not you, by the way) stop sneering at people who aren’t necessarily atheist?
*Can we (that’s not me, by the way, I never speak of them, unless to say I’d rather boil my head alive in cider than see them in stand-up) never speak of Russell Brand or The Mighty Boosh again?

None of these are likely to happen any time soon, so:

Can you tell me what the silliest xmas present you ever had was?

That’s ’slut’ as in lazy person, as per Giles Brandreth’s branding (‘watch out for sluttish behaviour in your wife, it could be a sign of mental illness’, but more about him another time) not a slut, as in the other type, before you start sniggering (perhaps).

To cut a not very long story even shorter, there’s an early 80s book called ‘the slut’s cookbook’, full of sugary recipes, aimed at women with better things to do than cook, and we cooked one of the recipes at home.

Sue Perkins was right! Most 70s/early 80s recipes are hosed in pish:

Plums in Brandy
Peaches in Red Wine
Stewed Plums (1 good bottle of Beaujolais)
Alcoholic Fruit Salad (1/4 bottle brandy and 1/4 bottle of white wine)

Kidneys in Tomato Sauce and Red Wine
Squid in Red Wine

Anyway, we managed to find a recipe that wasn’t doused in cliched French wine and plumped for one full of sugar instead; onion soup. I have to say it wasn’t bad, nay even nice but afterwards I had that same very uncomfortable feeling I had in Provence a few summers ago when I had to wretch and lie down for the rest of the evening (I didn’t get beyond the starter). I can’t chow anything with more than a teaspoon of oil or beef fat contained within. This soup contained almost a whole jug of oil and asked you to add extra sugar to caramelised onions.

What the hell were they thinking 30 years ago? No wonder nobody bothered with rezzos back then if they were serving up perfectly good food murdered by castor sugar and alcohol (they tell me about the latter). In our house, we were much too health-conscious.