This year I’m travelling to Morocco for the days that the Christians do their celebrating and I’ve been warned that the food and water there might have a detrimental effect on my digestive system. However, there are precautions you can take against this, so I’ve bought some pro-biotic lozenges.
Today whilst walking through the fashionable Emery Gate shopping centre in Chippenham I heard through the piped music system, Cliff Richard’s festive hit Mistletoe & Wine and, had I not shoved my fist as far down my throat as far as it would go, I’m pretty sure I would have covered at least three of the little elves standing outside Santa’s grotty grotto with my projectile vomiting. Cliff’s nothing short of sickly even in summer so when he starts singing his Christmas songs he becomes the most nauseating twat on the planet. However, there are precautions you can take against this so I’ve bought an airline ticket to Marrakech.
The only problem I’ve got about escaping the country for the fez-tive period is that in England the build up to Christmas starts early in September but it’s not really practical to be away for four months and miss the whole shooting match. It is very tempting though. But then there’s the risk of getting caught up in the Islamic Al Hijrah celebrations which I fear might involve sending cards, making puddings, stuffing birds and queuing up in Argos for hours on end.
Many of my customers have asked me how Christmas is celebrated in Morocco and I have had to tell them that it isn’t at all really. The only overlap between their arrangements and ours is the obligatory packet of Eat-Me dried dates that only your Nan ever eats. In Morocco they grow on trees.
I am assured by my most caring elderly ladies that there will be a little café down a dark alley somewhere in Marrakech where I will be able to purchase and eat a turkey dinner with all the trimmings. If that turns out to be true, however, I am going to run amok with a packet of dates until the powers that be agree to refund my air fare.
Anyway, if they show Casablanca on telly on Boxing Day (and if they don’t it’ll be the first time since 1942) keep an eye out because you might see me. I’ll be wearing a fez. I always do when I’m on holiday.