ANY day now we will have the Christmas cacophony from every corner ‘And so this is Christmas and what have we done? Another year older la la.’ To be perfectly honest, not a lot.

It’s hard to believe that Live Aid was back in 1985. Doesn’t time fly when you are making money?

If you believe what you read on Google – and I’m told I do too much Googling when I am alone – the fount of all knowledge Wikipedia has some interesting things to say about the fortune Bob Geldof’s made since Live Aid. Do they know it’s Christmas this year? Apparently so in the Geldof household And the Internet has some interesting things to say about Tony Blair and his financial outcomes since packing in the top job at No 10, especially in the Middle East.

Ironic when you consider that he and his American buddy went to Iraq allegedly bearing the gift of peace, but unlike Father Christmas didn’t drop Game Boys, dolls or footballs but instead ruddy great bombs.

Now I’m thinking about our poor MPs and how they will cope with their short Christmas break of just three weeks.

Google MPs’ holidays and you find this quote. ‘Over the next year Parliament will sit for just 128 days, the lowest figure since 1979. This is in my reckoning just over a third of a year.’ When you extrapolate, which is something I do regularly, it makes their salary of £64,000 worth £192,000 annualised.

Also with the dreaded expenses, they get a full year’s expenses to cover what is basically a third of a year.

By the way, do not confuse extrapolation with exfoliation or you could end up looking stupid or you might become as thick skinned as they are.

I had intended to write about the joys of Christmas to come but I can’t help thinking there aren’t any.

When you consider how our pensions, both private and state, have been savaged and add that to the great fuel debacle, the Christmas Season of ‘Good Will’ looks as though it may well decline to the season of ‘Good Won’t’.

My pieces are called ‘The Ramblings of Billy Nomates’ for good reason.

Now I am reflecting on the fate of turkeys and as I think, I have another Google.

My Googling eye is becoming very tired.

I read that turkeys can actually fly at 50mph which poses the question: What lies are they being told so they will stand in line to the bitter end? Maybe they believe they are queuing for their own Christmas dinners.

Reading it again, it says domestic turkeys can’t fly but wild ones can. I would have thought than any turkey which is about to get its throat cut would be pretty wild wouldn’t you?

Last but not least, let us spare a thought for the few who will get no good will from us.

You’ve guessed it. How many of us get Christmas every day like the chosen ones?

When your little ones are sitting on your knees crying that they can’t have what the other kids have, remind them why not.

Sing them that beautiful ballad of yesteryear by a banned singer who’s name I can’t mention for fear of offending somebody.

It goes like this. ‘I’m a banker, I’m a banker and it does me good like you know that it should. I’m a banker, I’m a banker and I’m always pulling your leg.’ Ms Nomates will be out shopping and I bet she is scouring every top store looking for the perfect and most expensive gift for me.

If you happen to bump in to her, would you please drop the hint that all I want for Christmas is a good Google.