A postcard from the 4th of December, 2020

I’ve got the Christmas shopping done, lads. I banged that Christmas shop right in the goal there. No messing. Popped it in the goal for the lads innit. Went into Rochdale with a shopping list and got it all done. One trip, lucky dip, this one doesn’t slip. Yep. Right in the goal. Christmas shopping. Bang.

I even bought a new Christmas cd, though I didn’t peruse the tracklist quite as carefully as I might have. Did you know Ronan Keating covered Fairytale of New York? Talk about hubris. Blimey, Ronan. What were you thinking?

In fairness, his version may be excellent. I haven’t plucked up the courage to listen to it yet.

It is going to be shite though, isn’t it?

I mean, come on.

I have no major problem with Ronan Keating. He’s our generation’s Val Doonican and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. But he has never done anything that suggests Fairytale of New York was a good fit for his non-threatening pop stylings.

But as I say, I haven’t heard it, so I could be wrong. Maybe he has stockpiles of gravel and gravitas that he has been saving up for a good solid crack at Fairytale of New York.

He hasn’t though, has he?

Has he?

If I listen to it, I’ll let you know.

I’m never going to listen to it.