Sadly, the New Year does not find me in good spirits. Christmas was largely a dismal affair. The Queen’s Speech, normally the highlight of the day, was absolutely ruined when my mother insisted on having some form of seizure just when it was getting to the good bit about the Commonwealth. My wife was in an absolutely foul mood after the whole book token episode. And my nephew was sulking in his room after the Nintendo Wii he was expecting turned out to be a box with a note in it saying “Try using your imagination for a change”.

To make matters worse, a very close like-minded friend has got into a spot of bother with this blighted government’s immigration services. For years he’s been the absolute embodiment of the Trotsky Left’s view of environmentalism by living off the land. But as soon as he shows a bit of entrepreneurial flair when it comes to employing casual staff they turn on him. If you’ve ever bitten into a great British cabbage, the likelihood is that cabbage was grown by my friend. For years, he’s eked out an income, keeping costs down by getting them picked by the educationally subnormal, single mothers, his children and when times got really hard, he rolled up his sleeves and picked a few himself.

The recession was biting hard until the EU borders were flung open and half a million Eastern Europeans clumped into view. And rather than seeing them bullied into prostitution or turn to the evils of drug dealing or working in restaurants, he welcomed them with open arms onto his farm. He made every effort for their comfort, clearing out most of the rusting farm machinery from his barn and laying down enough straw to make the floor comfortable. He paid them a living wage, minus the fees for accommodation, food and so on. But all it took was one government busybody to poke his nose about the place and suddenly phrases like “Human rights abuses”, “Restriction of movement” and “Medieval practices” are flung about the place like plates in a Greek restaurant.

So now he’s ruined. But I intend to help him by organising a fundraising variety show. And we’re going to have some of the stuff you’re not allowed to see on TV anymore. Proper, old-fashioned variety. My friend loves Jim Davidson, the Black & White Minstrels, people hitting each other with ladders while putting up wallpaper. Things like that. I seem to remember him being quite keen on The Minipops when they were on Channel 4, too. What an extravaganza it’s going to be. I needed a venue so I emailed the Colchester Arts Centre thusly:

Dear Arts Centre,

I am writing to you to enquire how one might go about hiring your hall for an evening of variety some time later this year?

I intend it to be a charitable event, raising funds for a friend who has got himself in a little bit of bother and needs some financial assistance.

There are a few questions I need to ask about the facilities in the place before I choose your venue over the other fine venues in Essex. The Cliffs Pavilion in Southend, for instance, is hosting stars like Jethro, so I know they’re a class act, but your place is more convenient for my needs.

Any info you have on prices, availability, fire regulations, backstage bar/crèche facilities etc. would be gratefully received.

Yours etc.