The Big Shots Shoot.

We have enjoyed many “straight” Christmasses but, this year, the spirit of the season is a Christennial cocktail packing a kick from the gold-shod hoof of the carnival trick horse, Pegasusceptible. It is one of those kicks with which there is no kick coming. It is one time when you don't care whether you ever come-to. With King Carnival waving the decanter on one side and Father Christmas filling 'em up on the other you are persuaded to distrust the advantages of consciousness and the sense in common sense.

Santa Claus, alone, is a knocker of mercenary Reason and a router of competent Calculation; but, when matched in machination with Santa Centennial, aided and abetted by capering Carnival, and sooled on by your own personal sprite who has slipped the leash of repression, there is little chance of escaping that multi-coloured condition in which there is no to-morrow and yesterdays are but swing doors giving swift access to today.