Slightly belated festive greetings to all you posters! Here’s hoping you’re reading this with a wad of refried turkey jammed in your mouth and stuffing leaking out your nostrils, wearing an expression of stupefied joy as you slide gently into a food coma that will last you till New Year’s…
I’ve been passing much of the Christmas season (when I’ve been sober enough to read, that is) with Mr Lovecraft and his squamous entities from beyond the illimitable reaches of spacetime. For those who don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, I mean Gollancz’s rather beautiful (and very heavy) collected edition of Lovecraft’s tales, the Necronomicon. For those who don’t know who H.P.Lovecraft is, read the wiki, buy the book and allow his purple-prosed tales of the macabre to caress your face like so many chilly wet alien tentacles. I haven’t read his stuff for years and I’m very much enjoying it on the re-read.
Oh, yes. The title of this post? That’s ‘Merry Christmas’, tortured by our vile Midlands argot into something you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. God knows how it came about but somehow it’s slipped into the lexicon round where I come from. Gotta love the English language, it’s so elastic. It lets us writers get away with murder, frankly…
