Ho Bloody Ho

Another year, another war zone

I have to admit, this is not my favourite time of year. Other than the traditional Boxing Day Leeds Rhinos fixture, a rare opportunity to go and watch the other code and escape overheating and overeating, there is little in the festive season that fills me with cheer and goodwill towards my fellow man.

In particular there comes that annual series of amateur drinking fixtures, known as the office party. Down at the Base Camp there is one such display of second rate booze handling in progress as I write this, and judging by the faces of the normally cheerful staff, even Doktor Doob, it is living down to the reputation of such events.

The main problem is the number if inexperienced players in the typical side, many of whom will doubtlessly be heading in my direction to fall off the taller bar stools shortly. All will be of perfectly legal drinking age, and few will be teetotallers, however at many of these occasions it's a bit like letting seventeen year olds drive HGVs on their provisional moped licence.

I'm too much of a libertarian to want anything in particular to be done about it; it's just bloody annoying. As it happens I was more impressed with Antony Worrall Thompson's sensible suggestions on the Daily Politics, of limited, and situationally appropriate, additional opportunities for teenagers to learn how to handle alcohol in a responsible way, rather than a big-bang, off the leash at eighteen approach. It was a thoughtful piece, that considered the mindset of the teenagers he was thinking of, but it didn't involve a crackdown or ban so I don't think anyone in Gordon's policy unit will be interested.

Bah humbug to one and all.