Things To Keep In Mind For Next Christmas.

It's Boxing Day today, so called because we put all our celebrities who died on Christmas Day in a lovely box to take to Jesus. I think you get a much better class of celebrity death at Christmas. This year we were treated to the double whammy of Harold Pinter (who I thought was dead) and Eartha Kitt (who I would have bet my house had been dead since 1995). The people who die at Christmas just seem to be a bit more worthy than those other boring celebrities that die any other obvious time of the year. It's as if they're so special to us that they feel they must ruin just a tiny bit of our happy day by giving their own life. And so they should, they're worth it. Harold Pinter, one of this country's playwrites, Eartha Kitt, she was Catwoman and had a massive head, Dean Martin, he drank and sang songs, Charlie Chaplin, he fell over a lot, and WC Fields, he basically called everyone a cunt but in a really clever way, all died on Christmas Day because they are all achieved greatness in their chosen field (and some of them had cancer). Not like Jeremy Beadle (30th January 2008), Charlton Heston (5th April 2008) and Peter Kay (4th January 2009) who were utter bellends unworthy of choking to death on their own talent during A Sharks Tale and making our Christmas so much more poignant. Yes, being born on Christmas Day must be a pain in the arse presents-wise but imagine the glory of dying that day. Christmas Day is a time for happiness and joy and, by dying, you would ruin all of that. Harold and Eartha, I salute you.