[Acrylic-bob]

Aren't turkey giblets odd looking things? I know that you are supposed to simmer them with vegetables for stock. But really the smell is deeply unpleasant and anything more disgusting from which to make a soup would be difficult to imagine. So I was a bit stumped about what to do with the things. Acrylic-Biff, I knew from past experience, will have nothing to do with them. He is a most fastidious dog when it comes to victuals and viands; he knows what he likes and woe betide me if it is not provided in sufficient quantities at the specified times.

It was a chance remark from the Vicar of our parish Church, St None-the-Less, where the Acrylic household attended the traditional midnight winter multi-denominational celebration of niceness and not being nasty or spiteful to anyone. We were present to witness the finals of the festive Liturgical dancing competition, the sort of thing that only those who cannot help laughing out loud when reading of the death of Dickens' ' little Nell' would find amusing - these days one takes ones pleasures where one can find them, but I digress.

Said Vicar remarked that the depths of winter were traditionally a time for looking forward through the gloom of the season to the bright promise of spring. I found the remark unusually poetic, for him, considering his fanatical distaste for anything approaching English Lit. and so much less The Book of Common Prayer. Anyway it set me thinking, as Miss Taylor - Kahn and her class of four to seven year olds attempted to essay Stravinsky's Rite of Spring, ohh, my dear. The noise, and the people!

I could, I thought, use the offensive looking and evil smelling offal to attempt a scrying or divination like our ancestors of old. I would, I determined, forensically examine the Turkey's innards to see what they might reveal about the events of the year to come.
Here, in no particular order are my results.

My eye was initially drawn to the arrangement of veins surrounding the colon which suggested to me that:

HRH Prince William might actually begin to develop something of a real personality, as opposed to the plastic PC imitation one he currently adopts. Though the Monarchy will endure, I am still of the opinion that we will be spared the reign of William V. Sadly, I forsee that life has something unpleasant in store for the plastic Prince.

The economy will lurch suddenly to life with the arrival of the Spring Bank Holday, in such a spectacular fashion that the detestable french will be left spluttering and choking in the dust of our passage.

The Euro will not collapse and the Euro zone will not break up. The fudge and can-kicking will continue as the continent slowly bankrupts itself. European property prices will become so cheap that the deeds to holiday homes on the continent will be included with every box of breakfast cereal.

Nick Clegg will suffer something of an identity crisis as a result of the tensions engendered by trying to remain relevant while holding a Europhile position in the face of overwhelming common sense. He will announce that he is changing his name to Emmanuelle and will join a closed order of nuns, devoting the rest of his/her life to quiet reflection and the cultivation of an allotment high in the Pyrenees.

Following Paliamentary boundry changes, Hyndburn as a seat will cease to exist and voters of Accrington and surrounding districts will have to share their MP with one of the Hebredean Islands. Graham Jones will attempt to return to local politics but will be sent to Coventry instead.

The producers of the TV talent show 'X Factor' will become so desperate to attract some semblance of talent to the list of entrants for next year's show that they will relax entry requirements still further, permitting performing animals and inanimate objects to enter the competition for the first time. The eventual winner will be a double rooted carrot with a suggestive extra limb.

'Strictly' will require a certificate from the BBFC.

It is truly amazing what you can see in a pile of oddly shaped and vile smelling viscera when you look really closely. Obviously, in the unlikely event that any of these predictions should actually come to pass I shall take full credit. However, in the more likely event that the predictions are actually proved to be worth less than the giblets they were based on, I shall eschew all responsibility and blame Acrylic-Biff and the Gin.

Whatever happens in the coming year, the pooch and I wish you all good fortune, the company of friends and Hope.

Happy New Year!