Hairy Gristlemouse ...

Well, the various man-traps have been laid just in case le Père Noel should be silly enough to visit (and stupid enough to try to make it down the chimney), the halls have been decked, the tree has been illuminated and the sideboards are groaning under the weight of mince pies, roast game, several geese and a partridge in a pear tree: the kids have announced their intention to wake us as soon as it's legally Christmas so I suppose we're about as ready as we'll ever be.

And we've tight security measures in place to avoid any repetition of last year's little debâcle when some drunk Swedish bint on a boating holiday blundered into the kitchen asking for directions to the canal du Midi and was promptly overcome by the whisky fumes from the maturing Christmas cake.

Fortunately, this being France the gendarmerie are always willing to help, although to this day I still have absolutely no idea why he was wearing a California Highway Patrol uniform and was accompanied by a giant alien slug, who took what I personally feel to be a rather unhealthy interest in the proceedings.

Still, it turned out for the best in the end, for when the officer was himself somewhat incapacitated by the spirituous vapours his friend was able to remove the pair of them before things got too ugly, and let us get on with the meal.

Merry Christmas, everyone.