I love Christmas. I love the carols, the companionship, the coldness, the friends coming home, the hot whiskeys and iced beers, the innocence, the magic, in the distance the horns of elfland faintly blowing

But I love it too much. Like the smell of coffee or the prospect of making love to a beautiful woman, it can never live up to expectations, and you always need a smoke afterwards, maybe a cup of coffee.

Instead of my beautiful fantasy, what we have …