For non-Brits, Paxo is a commercial product, which, when added to water, instantly produces "stuffing". We then proceed to ram it up a Turkey's posterior...or not, as the case may be.

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"What's that Doyle?"

"What does it look like?"

"I'm too polite to say!"

"It's stuffing, you berk!"

"What're those black bits? Why can't we have Paxo?"

"Prunes. And Paxo's not natural, full of E.numbers and additives. Not good for you."

"I like Paxo. Nice bit of sage and onion. What've we got to have prunes in the stuffin' for? There's orange bits in there too! What the hell are they?"

"Apricots."

"Eh? Are you making a fruit salad to stick up a turkey's bum, Doyle? Prunes, apricots - be spending me Christmas sitting on the loo, if you've got anything to do with it!"

"Will you stop complaining! Doin' me best here. Pass that celery."

"What are you going to do with that? You're not puttin' that in too? Where'd you get all these culinary ideas anyway? Have you been watching 'Ready, Steady, Cook' again? You have, haven't you? Come on, admit it! I thought you weren't going to do that anymore, not after that fiasco with the squid?"

"Wasn't my fault his wife had a nasty experience with an octopus in the Med! How was I to know? Not the same anyway - octopus and squid."

"Tentacles."

"What?"

"Tentacles! They've both got tentacles, Doyle. Long, wriggling, appendages that attach themselves to you!"

"Yeah, well. I can't help it if people are squeamish, can I?"

"Well you might be squeamish too, if something with eight arms and more suckers than you've had nut roasts, attached itself to one of your more tender parts and didn't look like it was going to let go this side of the new millennium! What're you doing now?"

"Breadcrumbs."

"I like white bread."

"So you do."

"Sliced."

"Yes. Very handy if you run out of draught excluder I hear..."

"Hmph. Can't even make a decent chip butty with brown bread! Bloody stuff goes round and round in your mouth. You could have a fortnight in the Algarve and never need to eat. Haven't we got any Paxo?"

"No!"

"Oh Doyle!"

"Well if you got what was on the list, when you went to Tesco's, Bodie, instead of poking your nose into everyone else's shopping trolleys, and helpin' old dears pack their bags, we might 'ave some! Pass that onion!"

"What're you going to do with that?"

"Don't tempt me!"

"Didn't need any tempting, last night, with that double-choc ice-cream. Licked that off some very interesting places, you did. Quite the little devil when you get going, Ray..."

"Knife please."

"Very mobile tongue."

"Pass that bowl over there will you?"

"Inventive too."

"And those herbs by the sink."

"Wouldn't have thought of doing that with a cream puff. Got any ideas for the Sherry Trifle, eh? Nudge nudge."

"Salt and Pepper, please."

"What're you doing now?"

"What's it look like?" "I think this is where we came in! Ever wonder what we're here for, Doyle?"

"Well my life is just one riotous round of stuffing preparation at the moment and you seem to be here purely to ask bloody silly questions!"

"Stuffing?"

"Yes."

"More stuffing?"

"YES!"

"What kind?"

"Sage and Onion."

"Not Paxo?"

"No, not Paxo. Mine. Just for you."

"Oh. Love me as much as that do you?"

"Looks like it. Merry Christmas, Bodie."

"Where's that Mistletoe...?"

-- THE END --