IT’S CHRISTMAS ON SUNDAY! Time to begin draining the blood from your titanic turkey, set the dwarves in the cellar to cutting those bloody crosses in ten thousand sprouts and realise you didn’t get a card for that dreadful tosser in the Sales department who always homes in on you at the office Christmas drinks. Disaster. Still, in a week and a bit we’ll all be coming down from a prolonged sherry high with the help of a New Year’s Day turkey curry buffet and some rather badly chosen jumpers. Just like Bridget…

Verbally incontinent spinster? SICK BURN!