The Columnist
  Hilary Bradt
  Mme Golaszewski
  Roger Laughton
  Gillian Hush
  Stuart Harley
  Isabel Maynard
Gill Coleridge 2
  Alan Hart
  Harold Evans
  Andre Previn
  Michael Langan
  Alasdair Riley
  Marilyn Lloyd
  Paul Brett
  Gerald Long
  Joanna Lumley(2)
  Terry Jones
  Gill Coleridge
  Jonathen Miller
  Ronald Biggs






January 30 2001

Dear Gill,

Welcome back from your tropical holiday in… come to think of it, I’ve forgotten where exactly you were going for your tropical Christmas holiday, but it doesn’t matter, because it leads me straight to my new idea. I’ve been talking to lots of people about where they went for Christmas, and a lot of them did the same as you, went away to the sun, and I couldn’t help thinking: “ Poor people! Having to go all that way and take all their Christmas gear with them! Well, you know, Christmas isn’t Christmas without all the right equipment, and the thought of packing all your crackers and artificial tree to take with you is unbearable…”

So this is the idea. A chain of Christmas shops in the tropics, and subtropics, to come to the aid of all pale Northern Europeans fleeing south for Xmas! Don’t take the stuff with you – go immediately to Kington’s Kristmas Kabin on arrival and get all your crackers, holly, Santa Claus outfits, tinsel. Carol tapes, Christmas pudding etc after you have arrived!

We’d make a fortune.

I know what you’re thinking.

You’re thinking there’s a snag.

And you’re right. When you set fire to brandy in the tropics on the old Christmas pudding, you can’t see it for the brightness of the sun.

I’ve already thought of that.

I’ve done a deal with a cheap French brandy firm to produce a special Cognac de Noel that burs with a fierce orange flame, and gives off lots of smoke.

But there’s another snag, isn’t there?

It’s a very seasonal trade.

What will a Kington’s Kristmas Kabin do for the rest of the year?s

I’ve thought of that, too.

Sell drugs.

The passers by and the police may think that that powdery white stuff on the window is artificial snow, but you and I know better.
It’s cocaine.

Nobody ever thought of searching the artificial snow on a Christmas window.

Why should they start now?

Forget books.

Kington’s Kristmas Kabin is where the money will be.

I’ll come and have lunch with you before the end of February to iron out some of the details.



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