It was like Alan Partridge meets Hyacinth Bucket. Rejecting tickets to the eternal monument to all things plastic and furry - The Late Late Toy Show. Sure it's an institution. Getting to be a member of the audience for this holiest of holies requires a lot of waiting around.
It's a cross between Jury Duty selection and winning the Lotto - at least to those under 12 and the dewy eyed progress-obsessed 50-something baby boomers, for whom each new year brings innovations in technology the like of which they have never seen - probably because they stopped paying attention after the moon landings - and a further pat on the back to let them know how far we've come.
Bejayzus, that auld hoor. its as if she went up to our Lord himself an' spat in his mush. Mother of God preserve us in these desperate times.
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