A reader asks if you should ever propose at Christmas… Aunty’s not impressed.
After how many years should you propose to your man at Christmas?
Never. Christmas can be depressing enough without someone telling you they want to spend the rest of their life with you. Till death do us part. Forgoing all others? Bugger off. Buy him a gift he’ll really want, like a Playstation 4.8 or whatever the gamers are playing these days.
I may be without festive cheer at the moment readers as I sit here watching melted snow fall from the sky. Reminding me of years past when I once was a blushing bride. It’s true. Literally hours of planning in my local boozer had gone into the big day. Then, that Christmas Eve, when the church had been decorated to await our arrival, the bells slightly ringing in the breeze and a moist quiver coming over me, he told me. Told me that he had a secret and he couldn’t keep it from me any longer.
He started tugging away at a wig piece whilst telling me he’s a distant relative of Noddy Holder. This hairy monster was revealed before me and I screamed. Ran out into the pouring rain, casting aside my headdress and flicking my fag ash over passing carollers. I had to leave readers. Imagine the children. My stunning good looks and his hairy elf like existence. It was an act of mercy for the un-conceived. A Christmas miracle if you will. No woman should ever have to go through labour thinking she’s giving birth to an old sheep poking out arse first. So I urge you. Whilst you’re enjoying a few festive tipples, don’t go offering folk your hand in marriage for a free round of vodka-Babychams. Glazed eyes are never best to say “I do” through.
In case I don’t see you beforehand in Chariots, have a wonderful Christmas and New Year. xx
The UK’s bitchiest agony aunt. Send her your woes if you dare.