Christmas, a time to lay aside family differences (or confront them, which is also fun), eat slaughtered birds and drink till you've forgotten how meaningless your life is in both the grand and small scale of things. It really is the most wonderful time of the year. But what if you had to go and have Christmas dinner with these people? Well then my friend, it would be the most depressing time of the year.ROBIN THICKEWhat he’d serve: Canadian Christmas dinner (Turkey), with “all the trimmings”, he says, seductively raising his eyebrows.Where he’d serve it: In his LA mansion on a platform overlooking the Hollywood sign. All the furniture would be black leather and you’d be able to see three sex swings from the dinner table. You’d be surrounded by portraits of him done in different styles – but all with eyes that follow you – and there’d be “artistic impressions” of his penis in the bathrooms.What he’d talk about: He’d talk “sexily” about “the music game” for about twenty minutes before cracking- admitting the house was rented, that he was lonely, he missed his family in Canada, and that he was frankly sickened by his music videos. “I’ve betrayed my Grandma”, he sobs into the maple-glazed parsnips, “she was a doctor and a feminist. Oh Grandma, what have I done? What have I done?”Soundtrack: A throbbing bassline.FEARNE COTTON
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