One has never ‘got on’ with Christmas songs. There is something intrinsically déclassé about the popular music ballad form and “Bing Crosbies” singing ghastly remembrances of ‘days past’ is one’s idea of a very personal Perdition; a glimpse perhaps of what it might have been to have gone to the ‘other place’ or to have voted ‘Remain.’ Popular music should be sung in Canticle form – or not at all.
One has powerful prejudices about flightless American birds. If a fowl is too indolent to trouble itself with the basic matter of learning to fly, one feels no predisposition whatsoever toward having it served up on the Rees-Mogg mahogany. Turkeys are the preserve of yahoos, Guardian readers and laggards – the very essence of the “Non U” Christmas lunch. A goose is for Christmas, Turkey is for holidaymakers in search of cheap sunshine – and easy access to Mesopotamia.
Vegetables should never be served ‘al dente’ – that way lies insurrection, despotism and Continental notions of promiscuity. One has long held a profound suspicion of ‘greens’ anyway – which should be eaten – and never elected. Last year our 7 year old Æthelflæd of Damerham (the third) stood up, unprompted, in the midst of the Christmas meal and fired Cook on the spot for serving ‘suspiciously European’ carrots before breaking into a rousing chorus of “Rule Britannia.” The future is in very safe hands.
In recent years one has witnessed a distressing tendency toward the mounting of ‘decorative electronic illuminations’ outside homes and even on Christmas trees. It is unforgivably common to place ‘fairy lights’ on one’s tree. The chilling ever pervasive interference of meddling EU “health and safety” chumps over the last four decades has inevitably led to the dimming popularity of candles on pine – on account of the fire risk posed. If one stations a maid nearby, with an appropriate asbestos suit, fire-hose and beater, there is absolutely no reason at all why one should not preserve the tradition as it was meant to be and delight one’s children with an authentic wax dripping sapling.
One is a stickler for the correct dispersal of ‘presents.’ Once Nanny has assembled the children in the Main Hall, insist on a strict pecking order with youngest to eldest child un-wrapping their gifts before proffering their parents a good firm hand-shake. Toys should be wooden and preferably carved English oak. One remembers fondly playing with a hoop and stick well into teenage-hood. It is every bit as exciting as an ‘Atari game consulate’ and never runs out of batteries. Older children might prefer something a little more cerebral and it is never too early to buy a child Ovid.
A BREXIT NEW YEAR
One thinks often of that little child – born so very long ago in a simple manger in Bethlehem and his loving parents. Not for them the hideous EU enslavements of ‘compulsory inoculations’ or ‘maternity leave.’ Certainly they had to contend with the ‘massacre of the innocents’ but that was as nothing when compared to the enforced ‘EU legislation’ that has brought despotic workers’ rights or ‘the freedom to travel’ to millions of enslaved Britons. As we look back on that first Christmas Day – let us remember the true Conservative legacy of Christ’s Life – that if one is born in a stable, one might still climb to the very top – but only if one is of the ‘right stock.’ Jesus was the ‘son of God’ and not just any old riff-raff. One feels that the infant Messiah would have been an instinctive Brexiteer; if one studies the Gospels closely there is barely a mention of ‘Common Agricultural Policies’ at all. Indeed, while Jesus was later to tell his followers that he would make them ‘fishers of men,’ he explicitly failed to mention ‘quotas’ once in any of his delightful “parables.”
One’s very warmest festive greetings to you all.
As told to Otto English