deck the halls with boughs of holly

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Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la. ‘Tis the season to be jolly. Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la. Really? Several of you have commented that I’ve been noticeably quiet on the ‘B’ subject of late, and yes, I have to concede that has been the case. There’s been so much to take in that I considered a period of reflection was the order of the day, but now is the time to break cover.

In the true spirit of our very British, and deeply eccentric, panto season, every element of the Brexit negotiation looks farcical. Take Aladdin Davis revealing he hadn’t done the thing he had insisted he had been doing. Oh, yes I have. Oh, no you haven’t. Or Cinderella May being so strongly told-off by her Ugly Oirish Sister that she had to abandon her plans to go to the European ball. And I, for one, can’t remember the deeply Eurosceptic seven dwarves of the cabinet turning-on each other quite so maliciously. At least Beauty and the Beast (Gove and Bumble Boris) have been conspicuous by their centre stage absence as they try to make amends for their Arabian Nights c*ck-up. The evil Nigel Abanazar in his gay purple apparel? He’s behind you! Cue the banana-skin slip and mocking trombone note.

Truth be told, there’s no way of knowing if Brexit will be a success. None. Against all logic and current indications it might work out for the better. It might. Deep down, I have to hope it does as, contrary to what Old Father Vince and Buttons Blair are telling us, we are stuck with it for at least a generation. A (very slight) majority of British people voted for it and, even though they’re all being let down, we do have to make the best of a bad lot. If nothing else, Christmas has to be a time of hope. So, put a smile on your face, give money to charity, spend time with those who need it and celebrate the moments of joy you discover on your daily travels. Enjoy these days as it could be a whole lot worse.