Sleep In Heavenly Peace

Dear Octopus,

As the festive season nears its usual drunken nadir (ie: Christmas) I thought it appropriate to write to you wishing you all of the required seasonal cheer and good tidings in the vain hope that these sentiments may somehow reach you, even if said feat isn't technically possible.

So....that's done.

I met a nice girl on the train yesterday. You would have liked her. Her name was Angelfish; she's a teacher (BANG TIDY), has a nose ring (NANG), and teaches secondary school literature (TANQUERAY), so we had a good talk about books.....where I probably seemed unbearably crass by name-checking a huge volume of haughty authors with whose works I am painfully unfamiliar. We exchanged numbers though, so maybe I'll call her in the New Year. Or save myself the trouble and not bother....bypassing straight to the end.

Tomorrow the Squid family ascend the icy plains of the M5 (in search of the wider Squid family, upon whose generous hospitality the Christmas period is now reliant), so this will be my last letter before we all get heinously merry and Vino Squid starts crying over the Queen's Speech and forgets to watch the parsnips. Families are crude and merciless creatures....but I actually can't wait. There are few things left in the world to get excited about, so those rare moments of sickly joy should be savoured for longer than they last - in my humble and meaningless opinion at least - and if the world had a little more festive cheer through the other androgynous seasons then maybe they'd all be a little more bearable. But who knows.

Anyway, time for bed.

Merry Christmas Octopus. I think of you every day, and miss you always.

Your loving friend,

Action Squid