Dad told the kids they could have whatever they wanted for Christmas. The kids said they wanted a Real Unicorn. Dad promised he would get them a Real Unicorn. It was a pinky promise, which meant that he absolutely had to do it. Then, when he realised what he had promised, he left, abandoning the rest of the family to sort out the problem without him.
Mum insists the kids must have their unicorn, even though initially she never wanted them to have it. Mum has made a knitted unicorn, but most of the family don’t like it. They say it is rubbish and it is not a Real Unicorn, and they won’t let Mum give it to the kids. Grandad says it is worse than no unicorn at all.
Big Brother has found a Real Unicorn for sale on the dark web, but it is so expensive that they would have to sell the house and become homeless in order to buy it. Nobody in the family wants to be homeless, except Granny, who says it would be worth it for a Real Unicorn. Grandad doesn’t believe that selling the house to buy the Real Unicorn would make them homeless. He says that is Project Fear, and he thinks that they would have a wonderful life if they had a Real Unicorn. Granny and Grandad think they should just go ahead and sell the house and buy the Real Unicorn from the dark web.
Big sister thinks they should go back to the kids and ask them if they really, really want a Real Unicorn for Christmas, even if it means becoming homeless, but Mum says they can’t do that because Dad made a pinky promise about the unicorn, and she doesn’t want to make the kids cross.
It’s now Christmas Eve, and Aunty wants to go and tell the kids that they won’t be able to have their Real Unicorn until the New Year, but Mum doesn’t want to do that because Dad made a pinky promise about the unicorn, and Mum doesn’t want to make the kids cross. She thinks she can knit another unicorn which would be better than the first knitted one. But Aunty points out that it took Mum two and a half years to knit the first rubbish unicorn, so she probably won’t have time to knit a better one by tomorrow.
Everyone except Granny and Grandad secretly thinks the best thing would be to go and tell the kids that it is not possible to have a Real Unicorn, but because Dad made a pinky promise, nobody will say it. They are all secretly cursing Dad for making a pinky promise and then leaving them to sort out the problem.







On November 8th I went to bed feeling cautiously optimistic. Surely the American public can’t really elect someone like Donald Trump, I thought. The polls were putting Hilary Clinton in the lead. I awoke the next morning and listened to the news in shocked disbelief. It was a feeling I remembered from June when, on the day of the EU referendum I also went to bed with the same optimism that surely everything would be OK, surely we wouldn’t really vote to turn our backs on the organisation that had protected me and safeguarded me all of my adult life, and I also woke to the devastating news of a terrifying unknown future.

It consists of a plastic bowl with markings like a football. It has a white ring-shaped insert that makes it perfect for arranging Pringles in. A whole packet will fit in it, and will go all the way round the bowl. In the centre of the ring there is a space for a red cylinder into which you have to put batteries (which are included!) If you make the mistake of switching on the little switch, every time you reach for a Pringle, the bowl will let out a roar and shout, “Pringoal!” whatever that means. I guess it’s good if you are on a diet as it will certainly put you off eating Pringles.


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