MERRY BLOODY CHRISTMAS

Here we go again. Time to buy a grown adult socks, wrap them like a state secret and watch them pretend to be surprised. The fridge is full, the bin won't shut and somebody has eaten the chocolates allegedly meant for visitors. You've heard the same six songs so often you could perform them under interrogation. By Christmas afternoon you'll be wearing your least ambitious trousers and insisting you couldn't eat another thing while opening the biscuits. A proud tradition. We hope you get a few peaceful moments amongst the organised nonsense, a proper laugh and plenty of the people who make you feel at home. We love you dearly, even if your festive jumper is an absolute offence against eyesight. Roast with love x