Yet. Sighing, she flicked the kettle on to boil.“We need better alcohol,” she whined.“I need any alcohol,” replied Polly the Preggo.“I’m h...ngry,” pouted Bitchy Barbara, opening and crashing closed cupboard doors (try saying that after a hard day at work (a)). As she searched through the cupboards looking for something to nibble on, the kettle boiled itself to a gigantic climax, and finally flicked itself off. Bitchy Barbara wished she was flicking herself off, too. Or, better, that Polly the. ‘Christmas is a time when all men recognize the human spirit in each of us. We remember that deep down we all have the same heart beating in our chests,’ John thought. He knew this as surely as he knew his own name. John had seen Christie before, last Christmas, in fact. He had been another person then. Funny how life bringing a man to his knees can make him see other people in a different way. Back then, he had judged Christie, he assumed she was one of those people who would never stop. More

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