In case you’ve not noticed, it is now Christmas Day and it has fallen to me to be the first person of significance to wish you a very merry Christmas. I’d be very grateful if you would also do me the honour of also accepting my salutations for the New Year. So grateful, in fact, that I won’t even mention Global Warming, Iran’s uranium enrichment program, the mounting crisis in the world banks, and the fact that Lily Allen has begun to reproduce. Although each so frightening as to turn an Oddie grey, they are stories for 2008 and we do well to now worry about them now. No, really, we shouldn’t…
Instead, let me be my usual understated self by saying that there is a significant lack of words in the English language to describe the love I feel for you regular readers. The ‘occasionals’ I like too but, let’s face facts here: it’s the regular readers (even those of you who don't think I know you're even watching) who butter my Christmas muffins. If I could, I would have you all pickled and popped in jam jars for my mantelpiece, where your little wrinkled cadavers could be studied during the remaining dark days of winter before I bury you in the fertile loam of my back garden sometime in the spring. With the right nutrients and careful watering, I’d raise many more of you, multiplying my readership with a fruitful harvest in the Autumn. This time next year, we’d have an army and who knows what good we could do!
Enough about the distant future. My day is going to be a busy one. We’re holding a small party here at our home for just a few hundred celebrity friends. Homes across London will be empty between the hours of 8PM and 3AM, while their owners are here enjoying a feast the likes of which have not been seen since the days of the toga. If you’re driving in the area tonight, please take care of celebrities running out into the road. We don’t want any accidents like we had on Judy’s birthday, when Billie Piper was impaled on a juggernaut’s radiator grill and carried all the way to Bradford.
I’ll be back tomorrow, when my hangover has lifted, to cast an eye over the destruction. My advice to you all is not to drink or to drive, and to avoid putting the moves on a Nolan, an Izzard, or a Clarkson. As for a Madeley… Well, let’s never say never, shall we?
Merry Christmas.
6 comments:
Merry Christmas to you and Judy, Richard.
Be careful if Fry gets you some of that weasel vomit coffee he bought Prince Charles some years ago. I can only imagine it's a bit bitter. You may end up re-thinking your coffee/froth ratio after that.
Best Wishes for today and the New Year.
Graham and all at www.LetMeRephraseThat.com ... actually, it's just me, but that sounds more important.
...and the fact that Lily Allen has begun to reproduce
...the question then arises: who the heck is Lily Allen?
I remember Enola Gay. When she reproduced she wiped 100,000 people of the face of the earth. And thank you for not mentioning Global Warming, Iran’s uranium enrichment program, the mounting crisis in the world banks, or the fact that life expectancy will fall to 33 years for women and 28 for men, nor that many of us will fall victim to the lethal combination of Aids and cocaine - which, my love of Champagne apart, will be as nothing compared to the grief of having to deal with the likes of yourself, Richard!
I’m weak-willed and easily led. I may be wrong, but I have a sensation of knowing beyond doubt that 2008 could be a very savoury year. I definitely recommend it...
Best wishes to all of you....
Dreamy
Merry christmas to one & all.
I would like to share Selenas optimism for 2008, but fear an ill wind blowing. Maybe its just one too many duck fart coffees and the brussell sprouts, I'm beyond caring. I feel a Carol coming on...
"God Bless you Merry Gentlethings"
Wow! That coffee is good shit ..
Merry Christmas, Dick. Hope the party's going well.
I too remain optimistic that the New Year will bode well for all of us. Selena is clearly a prophet. I too find it hard work dealing with a man of your qualities. In fact, I place my current downturn in luck squarely at your door. I'm now off to eat a second helping of Gabby's Romanian Christmas pudding. Every mouthful contains a .44 shell casing.
LMRT, and likewide to you. Can weasels vomit? Now there's a question that needs answered just after I've finished my Christmas meal. Merry Christmas to you, from all of us at the Richard Madeley Appreciation Society. And since there are cars lining up in the street as my guests arrive, that makes a multitude of us.
Selena, you really don't want to know who she is, though one is tempted to say 'weasel vomit'. Ah, too cruel, even for Christmas. I hope your corns are telling you the truth about the year ahead. I really am in need a change of luck. However, I'm rather disappointed that you find me a 'grief'. I can only promise to try my best to improve myself in the New Year. My resolution is to meet your high standards. Best wishes to you too. I'm now off to for a duet with Fry as we read Chesterton's donkey poetry for Clarkson.
Titch, there's a teach of army engineers on their way to de-arm your bowels. We don't need a national emergency during Christmas. Drink plenty of peppermint tea and lie down with your rear end facing east.
Chip, you're back blogging? [Edit: I've just seen your picture. You poor man.] Merry Christmas to you, though I don't see why I'm to blame. You mustn't compete with a guy who has his own show on Channel 4. I don't care how big a stripper you are in Wales. Your NYR: set yourself small goals.
Merry Christmas Richard, hope you all have a great time.
Love and kisses, and no swearing from me today of course.
xx
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