Ho, ho, ho, in Stoke-on-Trent

Things have finally got out of hand here in Stoke-on-Trent. The office Christmas meal ended up as a bit of a cold turkey.

It all started when the MD decided we would have a themed festive gathering based on old Mr Oche himself, Phil 'The Power' Taylor.

So there we were, 101 of us with pillows tied round our wastes for a fuller figure look, (except for the large lady from human resources) and garish short-sleeved shirts worn by all on the coldest day of the year.

Unfortunately, boy in a suit, our 15-year-old consultant from Berwick-upon-Tweed, took things too far and bought his own darts and board.

This was fine until after half a glass of Blue Nun he decided to throw the dart at the balloons hanging over the MD's table.

Well, the rest, as they say is history. The dart missed the balloons by a country mile and dropped like a lead balloon straight into the MD's right thumb before he was about to tuck into his stale bread roll. Chaos ensured.

A trip to the University Hospital of North Staffordshire loomed large and he left the building looking like a dishevelled Teletubby, pillow hanging around his thigh and his white with purple and green spotted shirt improved (...in my opinion) with a dash of blood spread randomly between the dots.

Anyway, the point was that this was no fine dining experience in Stoke-on-Trent. Where was The Sentinel's food critic Alan Cookman when you need him to encourage the chef to pull his finger out and cook something that isn't in the charred remains cookbook.

The roasties were burnt, I failed to recognise the sausage wrapped in bacon until it was pointed out to me by the waiter and the turkey was more akin to my brown leather gloves in taste and colour...

The only highlight were the Brussels, not for eating, of course. They were so undercooked they were perfect for the annual food fight.

Our table won as always, as serviettes were waved frantically in submission. The moral? Do as I always do at Christmas, sit next to members of the local cricket team, their sprout-throwing is something to behold...

If you care to read more about life in the Potteries, pop along to The Sentinel...