This week in Mash History: Cromwell bans Christmas after seeing mince pies in the shops on September 1st, 1647

THE celebration of Christmas for a full third of the year has long been an English tradition. But what many don’t realise is that for 13 years it wasn’t, because of mince pies. 

Oliver Cromwell, the Lord Protector of England who came to power in the Civil War and played a key role in executing King Charles I, is also famous for banning Christmas. But this was not for religious reasons but because of a trip to the shops. From his writings:

“Felt hungry so popped out to Waite & Roses, an upmarket retailer certainly but I feel with fewer worms and less sawdust in their comestibles than rivals.

“But what I saw there chilled me to the very bone. Mince pies, on the shelves, with Michaelmas not yet past and the harvest festivals looming? Has the world tipped into unreason?

“Looking further I spied tins of celebration sweetmeats at reduced cost, even though we all know full well the cost will be reduced further come November, and even puddings. Why would we insult the Lord by rushing through our time on His Earth like such?

“Keeping a lid on my simmering temper, I repaired to the playhouse where, to my chagrin, a performance of the side-splitting Two Gentlemen of Verona was interrupted by a short, incomprehensible playlet that was for perfume and another for Bailey’s.

“Rising from my seat in fury, I hastened to Parliament and convened an emergency sitting which concluded in an Act outlawing Christmas and all its celebrations. Including those dratted mince pies.”

Thankfully, the ban lasted only until 1660 when Christmas, along with the monarchy, was restored and Cromwell’s body was exhumed from his grave and hung outside parliament bedecked with baubles and fairy lights from mid-October every year.

Next week: to 114 BC, when the Silk Road first brings sexy underclothing made of non-hessian material to the world, creating concubines.

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Six places you can demand to take your f**king dog now

THE UK is now pandering to dog-lovers to the extent there’s barely a place your nasty yapping mutt isn’t allowed. These locations are pathetically dog-friendly: 

Shops

Not just a corner shop where the dog’s owner has called in for 20 Benson & Hedges, but high-end proper city centre shops. What business has an Irish Setter in Waterstone’s or the Apple store? Is the presence of three Scotties with tartan collars really enhancing this John Lewis? The eternal question: what if they piss? What if they shit?

Cafes

But at least in a shop you can pass by quickly with a scowl of disapproval. When someone’s brought their Cockapoo to a cafe you’re trapped with it, waiting for your coffee and watching it warily investigate every new passing scent, never sure if this is the one which will send it into a frenzy of barking and spray spittle on your salted caramel brownie.

Garden centres

Technically just another shop, but dogs are there in such numbers they’re practically parks now. And when you mix that many dogs, what happens? They go for each other, growling and snarling among the wooden ‘Gin Dependent Woman’ signs while their owners recite the mantra ‘He’s never normally like this. It must be something you’ve done.’

Cinemas

Not all films are Oppenheimer. Many are under two hours long. There is, therefore, no need to drag a Rhodesian Ridgeback along to an experience it’s guaranteed to not to enjoy and may alarm it in the worst way. Nonetheless, cinemas are now offering dog-friendly screenings so Tyson doesn’t have to miss out on The Conjuring: Last Rites.

Trains

And now we’re into a contained experience which, beyond a certain length of journey, a dog simply cannot get through without pissing. So how’s that going to happen? It would seem, from the lack of a nappy on your Jack Russell, no arrangements have been made. Why don’t you explain how this £115 trip to London will be enhanced by dog urine?

Bars

Pubs are no problem. The tradition of the pub dog stretches back centuries. But a bar? That people dress up for, and drink cocktails, and attempt to instigate sexual congress in the forlorn hope of a long-term relationship? What role has a Labrador in all that? Does he even like the music of Dua Lipa? Can you not leave the poor f**ker at home?