Well, gosh darn it, it appears to be that time of year again. Here at Americana-UK Towers we are as divided about the festive season as a country pondering Brexit. There are those of us, The Editor for example, who go all squishy and fluffy and impossible to live with at the prospect of a mince pie, some new pairs of socks and the chance to bestow goodwill to all men (and women).
Then there are those of us, The Political Correspondent for example, who go all heard-hearted and miserable and impossible to live with at the prospect of a mince pie, some new socks that they don’t need and the expectation of having to bestow goodwill to all men (and women). Try as we might we can’t seem to reconcile the opposing views so we do as we always do in such circumstances – get so roaring drunk that we don’t care what anybody else thinks, least of all ourselves, and then clear up the mess in the morning (carefully checking the CCTV to see if anybody muttered something under their breath about us). So here’s to you whichever side of the fence you are on and here’s a tune which is the best we can do for a festive offering…
