Late night nutters aren't so nutty

I'd always thought this thing about lonely and depressed people calling radio phone ins at five forty in the morning was a vague urban myth, but they just had this poor chap on Radio 2, called George, from Salford. He doesn't like Salford much, does George, the kids keep 'nicking my goldfishes' and there's 'a lot of call centres round here'. He had his little dog with him, Inca, who came to the phone and snuffled a bit - Inca helps George with the crossword, does Inca - and I have to admit that at this point I exclaimed out loud: 'Shouldn't you be back on the ward?'

It turns out this was rather uncharitable. I'm a hard soul to break - if you're panhandling me for money you'd better have a good story about needing to get to Colchester to donate bone marrow to your sister - but the next question the incomparable Mo Dutta asked George from Salford was: 'What are your Christmas plans?' George let out a long-suffering sigh and explained: 'I'm not getting out anywhere. I've got myself a chicken dinner for tonight and a beef dinner for tomorrow.' Presumably on a two for £1.99 deal at the local Co-Op. Well, I was very nearly heartbroken for the poor man. I know Christmas doesn't mean much on a religious level these days, that it's chiefly an excuse for a knees up, but it doesn't make it any less of a horrible time to be lonely. I desperately hope that never happens to me, and I'm enormously thankful for all the people I can call on, L, you lot, my offline friends, family; because too many have nobody.

Then he requested Away in a Manger and wished everyone a Merry Christmas.

And Merry Christmas yourselves...

I'm not lonely and depressed, by the way, I'm just having an insomniac episode and am waiting until it gets to six thirty so I can leave for Heathrow. I was dressed, showered and shaved by five and have been playing Bejewelled for the last hour and a bit. And now I have tea in one of malachan's enormous mugs.