It wasn’t like this when the Diary was a kid, you know. None of this “I want a PlayStation 2 and a Rapunzel Barbie and a Lego Hogwarts and a puppy and and and…” rubbish.
When the Diary woke up on Christmas morning, in the draughty room it shared with its seven siblings, it found a darned sock, half-filled with brazil nuts, an old thrupenny bit (in a good year) and a couple of tangerines (or clementines, or satsumas, or whatever newfangled name they have now). And the Diary was grateful! Such gifts were a thing of wonder to the Diary’s coal-reddened eyes.
So it was with great joy that the Diary opened a
package from John Brown Citrus Publishing to find (so witty) a tangerine, with an invitation to a Christmas party. How the memories came flooding back. And if a single malt doesn’t arrive in the next post, the Diary will run that story about the director, the cleaner and the XXXX.