Tiggergate

24 hours of solid Purple Planet partying led to some traditonal festive ill-feeling.

The fate of three of our party is barely known - hopelessly standed in rural Cheshire

in snow, freezing temperatures, and with all taxis booked up for four hours.

Those who drove faired little better, contriving to crash...into each other.

We spent an hour on a railway platform in the company of a bizarre Beetlejuice

lookalike who took exception to my tie - on the grounds of it being 'too papal'

Things looked up with by the appearance of a Ribena bottle that had been

sensibly pre-loaded with vodka.

Natural justice was suspended. We thought we won an oversized Tigger

stuffed toy in a raffle, but, on some a specious technicality, our winning ticket was

deemed 'invalid'. Tigger would have been given a nice warm home in our studio-

but now he'll just have to bounce...bounce...bounce.....to the soup kitchen.