I can imagine them all sitting around the Christmas table. It's monochrome.
They sit sternly, hands in laps. Facial expressions neutral. A cracker is pulled, a joke told.

"That is factually inaccurate" is the reply.
( Kroney, Thu 27 Sep 2012, 11:11, 2 replies, latest was 13 years ago)

a clock ticking in the background, the clinking of plates.
the silence is broken by CQ, he tells a bland knock knock joke. the budgie cheeps. father scowls at mother and shakes his head, his large moustache perfectly trimmed. "Why can't you be more serious, like your sister."
( mark morrisons prison shoes I love Willie, Thu 27 Sep 2012, 11:13, Reply)

budgies don't cheep
they squawk

other than that, a pretty picture.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 27 Sep 2012, 11:15, Reply)

The grey dishes are cleared away.
Father reads aloud from the 'deaths' column of the local paper. The family allows themselves a cold and humourless smile, and the annual tradition of watching the treasured VHS of 'weather forecasts of the 1970s' begins again.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Thu 27 Sep 2012, 11:22, Reply)

the fire crackles in the background, father pushes the embers around.
"Tradition dictates the exchange of gifts. You may take one of the whimsical snowglobes from the mantle."
CQ claps excitedly, father scowls and mutters under his breath.
( mark morrisons prison shoes I love Willie, Thu 27 Sep 2012, 11:24, Reply)

CQ shakes the globe and the flakes slowly drift down over the jolly Father Christmas miniature.
A thumping on the ceiling as grandmama bangs on the floor of her room with a shoe.

"Stop that racket!" she yells.
( Kroney, Thu 27 Sep 2012, 11:27, Reply)

I have a click for each of you here.

( tangledupinblue hairy badge with moving eyes, Thu 27 Sep 2012, 11:29, Reply)

By this point the Lithium is coursing through CQ's veins like psychedelic lava.
His Wilf-like 'tache quivers with anticipation as he reaches for the whirling orb of aqua-borne flakes, his heart pounding. 'What will it be? A castle, perhaps, or a fairy grotto?' Through the fug of heavy sedatives the last vestiges of his imagination struggle to remain alive.

'No, son. It is a factually accurate model of Coventry, 1971'
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Thu 27 Sep 2012, 11:30, Reply)

1971 1941
(localboy purveyor of pisspoor puns, Thu 27 Sep 2012, 11:38, Reply)