Speaking of the country's economic recession, the company I work for, being controlled by Credit Cunts, has decided to do away with our Christmas party this year. Two years ago it was the Groucho club, last year a swanky bar in Mayfair. This year? It's being held in the company's office. Goodbye champagne and fancy pink cocktails. Hello Tesco Value lager and Vodkat! It's a good thing I don't have a fussy palate.

I don't know what I'm moaning about really. Jenn and I will be in proper financial meltdown unless we find a new housemate by the beginning of January. If we fail it may be entirely our own fault, however, as we plan on deciding whether someone will make a good housemate on the basis of whether they own Guitar Hero World Tour and will be moving it in with them. Ah, priorities...

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