The nan is just crispy enough to enjoy but still soft enough to get a firm grip on the lamb kebab inside. The spices were well-balanced but personally I could have done with some more chilli kick. If I’d been drunk, I’d have liked a lot more chilli. Let’s face it sublety is wasted on a man full of cooking lager.

From the North to the South poles, people do like a nice bit of cake at Christmastime. Packed with the prestige indicated by copious fruit-and-nut usage, these are an often boozy, always bountiful, and occasionally barmy bunch.

Let’s face it, the majority of London’s  Ã¢â‚¬ËœChristmas Markets’ are grim excuses for the real spirit of festive commerce felt throughout Europe’s more traditional town squares. £50 for a night spent shivering in a mock chalet scoffing lukewarm bratwursts and glugging glogg? No thank you. We’ll get a cheap deal off thetrainline.com and pop off to one of these destinations instead.

Who hasn’t had that awful feeling of sitting down, stomach pleasantly a-rumble, only to have those stirrings of gastric yearning turn to icy needles of dread upon having a cheap paper crown plonked on your bonce and reading the awful incantation’prawn cocktail; turkey with all the trimmings; Christmas pudding; mince pies and coffee’ on a holly-trimmed menu?