And the bells were ringing out on Christmas Day

SO for many of us Christmas has been cancelled.

I hate the festive build up – Christmas specials on TV that were filmed in August; stupid fairy lights in front gardens that make the street look like Blackpool illuminations; bloody tinsel; Last Christmas, Step Into Christmas, Do They Know It’s Christmas, All I want For Christmas Is Yooooo…

No Driving Home For Christmas though. Not now.

Yet for all the pre Christmas running around like a chicken with its head cut off and the pain in the bum rush to get work done in time, there’s the day itself, which, despite everything, is always wonderful because I get to spend it with at least some of my kids and grandchildren.

There’s only one thing better than having some of the kids and their kids around for Christmas and that would be having them all here, which is difficult because they are scattered from London to Worcester to Florida and even regular trips up the M6 have been impossible.

The last time I had all six of them in the same room was coming up to six years ago, when only one of the four grandsprogs had been born and that was on the saddest of occasions when we were all in black.

My girlfriend was supposed to be going to Coventry to see her daughters and her grandson, for only the second time since he was born, but that all fell apart on Saturday afternoon.

Many other parents/grandparents would have been looking forward to that contact with loved ones at the end of this week and now it’s all gone with a fizzle like a cheap cracker.

Of course, we’re disappointed, we’re upset and we’re angry. But I still don’t understand how that is somehow Boris Johnson’s fault. He didn’t mutate the virus, it’s what viruses do. He isn’t going around London and the south east infecting the population.

But some people damn well are because it’s spreading like an Atlantic oil spill.

Even after the announcement, when I went out to get some supplies, there was a woman walking around the local shop with no mask on!

No one said a word, even though we were all thinking it.

And that word is unfortunately unprintable here as I don’t have a 9pm watershed.

People like her, and the neck tattooed jail fodder numbty who nonchalantly toured the isles of the Co-op in the week, have just Grinched up Christmas good and proper yet no one behind the counter did anything.

And there in a nutshell is why we’re in this position now. With a moronic minority bringing us to our knees, if the sensible, regulation abiding majority – including me – had made a stand early on, even if it risked some nasty moments, and said, get out of my shop, my pub, my space… then maybe, just maybe we wouldn’t be where we are.

But it wasn’t clear enough, the rules kept changing, we didn’t know what to do, how should we f*** off, Lord?

There’s only one reason why people need the blindingly obvious spelled out to them and that’s so that they can absolve themselves of responsibility and point the finger of blame at someone else when it all goes too hell.

Well I do hold them responsible. For all of it.


Stupid TV quiz answers of the week:

The Chase:

Q: How many players are in a string quartet?

A: Six

And, of course, Tipping Point:

Q: Which canal links London and Birmingham

A: The Sewers Canal

Q: Polo-crosse is a combination of polo and which other field sport?

A: Noughts and crosses?

Look to the future now, it’s only just beguuuuunnnnn.


Edward Case