The entire clan will have assembled on Zoom, brother-in-law Jimmy will have played his Afrobeat LPs… But despite the upheaval it was just as I would have predicted
This week I should be telling you what I got up to this Christmas but, due to the wonders of seasonal deadlines, I’m filing this piece some time before anything has actually happened. I mean, you don’t know me so I could just lie, but I feel like that would be against the spirit of this column, if not Christmas itself.
Instead, I’m going to make some predictions of whatwill have come to pass in the past week, since I think I’ve a good chance of nailing it. I’d certainly be more accurate than that scary bloke from A Christmas Carol whose skills as a prophet have always bugged me. Unless I’ve greatly misinterpreted that story – and by this I obviously mean the infinitely superior Muppets version – his whole shtick appears to have been “loads of terrible stuff will happen, unless you stop being a brat”. To me, this marks him out as less of a mystical herald, and more an Irish mammy in a grim reaper costume. Come back when you have the Lotto numbers, you big goth nag.
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