You couldn't make this one up!
The usual no expense spared Havering entertainment in Romford market square but the lowlight or sorry highlight is the crooked house just behind some tent full of tinsel and bugger all else with a banner saying supported by Havering council.
I understand next year they're moving this highlight of the years festivities to the town hall car park to save on the crooked house.
Not short of socks by any means but many moons ago Mummy D1 put it around that I was short of underpants and ended up with 25 pairs.
Don't tell me no one bought you a nice bottle of Chardonnay or at least a box of hankies.
Well if its any consolation I didn't get any of those either.
And the bleedin' dog got more than me.
Oh I can't get too dysfunctional Fred Mrs and Little Miss D1 have buggered off out for a few hours leaving yours truly to do the dinner.
And Little Miss D1 bombed downstairs this morning to look out the back to see if Santa had been and noticed the glass of milk had been drunk and the carrots and reindeer food had gone and then the pile of pressies under the tree.
I'd hate to tell her the carrots and reindeer food are now in my compost bin.
More years than I care to remember,lucky enough to play at a decent standard,then managed for a couple of years before becoming a secretary at a decent standard,have some great memories topped by shaking gods(Peles)hand at Wembley along with Gordon Banks only person missing was the late great Bobby Moore,but I’m old enough to have had the privilege of seeing him in the flesh at Upton Park,of the defenders i’ve watched live only Der Feurer and Franco Baresi compare,Paulo Maldini was as good,but he was predominantly a left back.
The only reason I got into the 2nd eleven was because I'm naturally left-footed. Then I found my true position in rugby in the back row, sorting people's teeth out. Sent off five times before I was 30 and well deserved in each case. The piss-ups after rugby games are so much better than football - stupid songs, drinking games, riotous behaviour, puking-up macho nonsense. I still miss them.