Back on terra iracundia however, messrs Velvet, Bognops and Blackout inflict upon themselves a duology of televisual flagellation from the light channel in the form of T.Bag's Christmas Turkey and Cilla Black's Christmas - two vintage yuletide offerings which evidently did their very utmost to fly the flag for Scrooge-like militant atheism in the living rooms of children and adults alike. So at least everyone's catered for. Which is the meaning of Christmas, we suppose.

Did our Lady Of Perpetual Outrage Dame Pegatha Mountbatten have an inadvertent hand in Thames Television's resounding lack of franchise-renewal? Is a heart-melting sense of festive poignancy overdone by depicting Baroness Cillosis Blackjack as some old lady who sits around the house waiting for guests who never turn up and talking at the television? And is it just true that no good terrestrial Christmas programming has ever been broadcast on a channel which has adverts?

You'd certainly be forgiven for thinking so...

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