With Regret, You’re Fired
Somewhere in an inhospitable graveyard of baggage lies a black suitcase arrested from our hands 11 days ago, promised to us before Christmas Day and almost now pronounced lost at sea. We have yet to have the ceremony for my dressing gown, the charger for my hair clippers, Michelle’s slippers, an assortment of T Shirts for both of us and some other items we cannot recall: we wouldn’t make it very far on ‘The Generation Game’. This is now known as ‘Bag Gate’ and we have complained to customer relations at Monarch who, so far, couldn’t have given less of a ####! We have threatened them with thousands of pounds of lost revenue for duping us with the way their web site makes you think you are paying for an extra bag WITH extra weight, when all you are doing is paying to take an empty bag. The lonely valise is mewing somewhere in Italy, lost in a sea of unwanted immigrants, hoping to be sent to a small island with a panhandle only a few miles east of Iraq.
Christmas in Cyprus has exceeded our expectations. The night before the festivities began we dined in a local tavern called Old Simos (which was packed) where the owners could not do enough for us. I ate baby squid (more like super size squid) and chips with a Greek salad, Lountza (smoked pork loin) and grilled Halloumi washed down with Thisbe, which is a local white wine made by KEO. This set the tone for the next two days and has got me thinking.
Christmas needs to change it’s name by deed pole.
There are a number of alternatives but so far the only one that I have settled on is ‘GorgeMass’. It is the one day in the year where our inner sensible team have the day off. Our friend in Cornwall, Juls, would say “F##k it, eat what you want” …. and, we do! By Boxing Day at Chris and Pats, I was up to three desserts: Christmas Pud, Mince Pies and Apricot Crumble, all with custard. For after dinner nibbles, we sucked boxed Maltesers (chasing them around the cardboard treasure chest), After Eights (I wonder what they think about me!) and Roses. Slimmers will be pleased to know though that this was all washed down with Pepsi Max as we were all being calorie conscious!
Is there any other day in the calendar where we let ourselves go so much and when clothing just won’t do up anymore? No, I don’t think so.
So, keep this to yourselves but I’m going to apply for next years Apprentice with my very solid business plan. We will re-brand everything but keep Santa Claus as he can be a symbol of our indulgence. Some of our customers will think that the name is partly derived from gorgeous, and that is fine, they can think what they want. The rest of us will know what it really means. This time next year, Lord Sugar, we can be millionaires! I can see Karen Brady loving me already!
So, in accord with Michelle’s rather cruel jibe about my stomach (I’m planning revenge) in her blog, michelledevitt.blogspot.co.uk I can confirm the presence of a shelf being built just under my sternum: the builders are in and they are doing a very fine job indeed! I’ll finish with a quote! I’m sure this is copyrighted somewhere but it goes like this.
“It’s never too early for cake!”
Happy GorgeMass everyone!
Stay tuned for my next blog which is called ‘Ten Million Turkeys‘