It's over! Not that it matters a great deal in these places of course, people do their best but in reality there isn't a great deal of cheer in durance vile. Normally I seem to manage to ignore the whole thing and let it drift past in a sort of distant haze. I know it is going on - I see it on the telly! - but it has very little to do with the denizens of Lizzie Windsor's hotel for society's rejects.
Speaking of society's rejects, there was an interesting discussion the other day, Christmas Day in fact. There I was, sitting in my kennel and playing with a Game Cube, when the door opened and in came one of my contemporaries, a nice enough fellow who seems to be of the opinion that I am wise and therefore worth listening to. Ha! If only he knew that I am a bungling fool who staggers from drama to crisis daily, unsure of anything and merely hoping for the best. Like Mr Micawber, I am sure something will turn up. It hasn't so far but who knows what the future holds?
So, in he came, my erstwhile visitor from upstairs, and he sort of had his proverbial cap in hand.
"Good morning!" said I, "and a merry seasonal greeting to you!"
It turned out that this fellow had been given the opportunity to purchase something from another party and wanted advice on the subject - should he buy or should he not?
I said, "Well, to begin with, it has nothing to do with me, and to be quite frank about it, I don't want anything to do with it. But that's not the point, is it?"
"What do you mean?" asked he.
"Look," said I, "It is perfectly clear to me that you don't need my advice, you have already made your mind up anyway."
"No! No!" protested the fellow.
"Silence peasant!" said I and he grinned. "Uncle Frank is talking. Thank you. Now, you have no desire for my advice, as I say, you made your mind up long before you came in here. No, what you really want is for me to tell you it is a good idea and to go ahead. Then, if, or when, it all goes to buggery, you can blame me! You can say tnat I told you to do it. I'm not that stupid really. You are over twenty-one, so you say, so make your own decisions. How's that for
a bit of Christmas advice?"
He grinned at me. "You're not daft, are you?"
Said I, "A lot of people would argue with you on that. Now, is there anything else I can refuse to help you with? Off you go, feel free to visit me at any time when you need to be abused. Come back when you've got less time to spare."
"That's it!" cried he, pointing a finger like an Exocet missile at my face. "That's who you remind me of, Blackadder!"
"Thank you, goodbye!"
"I'll be back later on," said he and with that threat ringing in my poor, battered ears he went off.
And that, as they say, was that - my Christmas story. Okay, Charles Dickens has nothing to worry about, but it's the only tale I've got.
I hope that the New Year of 2009 brings everyone the good luck and fortune which they desire for themselves.
The Voice In The Wilderness
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