A horrible Christmas

Flopsy popped round today with some kind of wreath made of thistles and brambles, and tried to hang it near my burrow. I am now sharing with Benjamin - he's incredibly irritating, but needs must - and we both watched her struggle with the wreath, pricking herself in her eyes and her paws every few seconds.

"It's no good," she said finally, dabbing at her scratched eyes. "It won't stay up. What a shame. It took Mrs Tiggywinkle three hours to make."

I know this is a lie. Mrs Tiggywinkle has been using Samuel and Anna Maria to make Christmas decorations this year as she apparently 'knows something horrible' about them and they are being effectively blackmailed into making the festive knick-knacks.

I will write more later - I am excited, as it's our Christmas party tonight. I have already stockpiled a small bottle of wine that I found under a bench, and Benjamin has found half a B&H that we're going to smoke later with Jemima Puddle-Duck. Benjamin is determined to try and impress her after last year's disastrous 'Conga Line' debacle; he grabbed something he shouldn't have, and made a cruel (but funny - and also true) statement about Jemima's anus. I have warned him that puffing on a discarded cigarette may not work, but he just looks at me peevishly every time I try to bring it up.

Baby got back

Looking forward to starting up my diary again, properly. 2011 was a write-off. Pun not intentional. Only got let out of rabbit prison last week. Discouraged.