I can't win. If I take a break from my journalistic endeavours I am described as lazy. Yet when I dream up a wizard jape I am similarly shot down in flames.
It was originally my intention to deliver a festive address to the mighty League of Ambrosians (and the world at large) in the style of a certain Royal personage who tends to have something to say for herself at about this time of day, as her subjects are picking their teeth and blowing off.
However, Auntie P has warned me in no uncertain terms that if I disrespect or parody HM's own efforts, I will not see a morsel of Xmas dinner nor be allowed to watch Doctor Who this evening. I know when I am beaten.
But do not despair, I have another notion in the toe of me festive stocking. Watch out in the coming days for yer Uncle Ambrose's review of the year. If it's good enough for Blue Peter ...
Anyway, must get ready for our feast. Luckily the giant anaconda at Newquay zoo croaked last week and it is just gamey enough now for the table. We are having all the usual trimmings; crispy fried bladderwrack, devilled winkles and of course the ubiquitous Brussel sprouts.
A merry Xmas to all of you from me good self and the rest of Team Ambrose!
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