Auntie Doris’s Twelve Days of Christmas. #1: A Partridge in a Pear Tree.


What a ruddy stupid Christmas present to get anyone. I certainly wouldn’t have thanked my Raymond if he had ever tried to fob me off with a present like that. There wasn’t much room for a pear tree in our back yard anyway, and what room there was was all concreted over. I did have the old dolly tub filled with soil, but I had my hydrangeas in that and I wouldn’t have been too happy about pulling them up to make space for a ruddy pear tree. Nasty things pears anyway, either that hard that you nigh on break your dentures on them, or that soft that you get pear juice all dribbling down your chin. At least our Madge said it was pear juice, that time I caught her with Henry Bartlett round the back of his greengrocers shop. And besides.. Everyone knows that partridges are ground nesting birds, so what in the name of the Lord would one be doing up a pear tree? They don’t like heights don’t partridges. The poor thing would probably be all nervy and mess itself . And nobody wants partridge mess all over their pears. Not that pears are in season at Christmas time anyway, and the tree wouldn’t even have any leaves on it either. So the present would be nothing but a frightened bird in a bunch of twigs. They say it’s the thought that counts but anyone having that sort of a thought can ruddy well unthink it as quick as they like, and get something useful instead, like a years subscription to the People’s Friend. Uncle Raymond’s Christmas Cracker Cackle of the Day: “She was only the vicar’s daughter, but I never saw holier tights!”

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