Nice opinion poll
‘I’d like a nice opinion poll for Christmas.’

‘I’d like a nice opinion poll for Christmas.’
‘I know how they feel.’
‘The wise men departed unto their own country another way.’
‘All the reviews are one star.’
‘Oh no! What’s happening in the Middle East now?!’
There are a lot of extremely able jump trainers in Britain but only a handful are really adept at successfully preparing a horse for a big target, such as a race at the Cheltenham Festival or one of the season’s most valuable handicaps. These are typically the contests in which the leading Irish trainers also enter their best horses and so they are fiercely competitive. Paul Nicholls, Nicky Henderson and Dan Skelton clearly all deserve a place on this ‘top target trainer’ list for winning so many top prizes, while the likes of Nigel Twiston-Davies, Venetia Williams and Jonjo O’Neill have also had more than their fair share of big-race
‘Your flight to Egypt has been cancelled. Have you considered Rwanda?’
It was about a year ago when my dying father, diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, turned to me and said ‘Sean, can you get me some heroin?’. For a moment – understandably – I wondered if he needed this ultimate painkiller for some fairly ultimate pain, but he didn’t look like he was in agony. And when he followed that up, with a puzzled frown, and the remark: ‘Or maybe some opium, or weed, I’d like to try them,’ I realised that this was nothing to do with analgesics. Dad wanted some psychotropic fun. Dying is not recreation, it’s annihilation. It must be endured, with, if you’re lucky, your freaked-out
This year A Christmas Carol is 180 years old, first published in December 1843. It had sold out by Christmas Eve. And it has a lot to answer for, not simply because it ultimately spawned Kelsey Grammer’s Christmas Carol musical, but because it is credited with having popularised the idea of turkey as a festive staple. As you’ll recall, turkey is what Scrooge has sent to his clerk Bob Cratchit once he’s had his Damascene moment – and the idea took off. Within a few short years (1861 in fact), Mrs Beeton had declared that ‘a Christmas dinner, with the middle classes of this empire, would scarcely be a Christmas dinner