A CHRISTMAS column in which decks and desks are cleared (though not of cigarette cards), loose ends are tied, debts acknowledged and one or two long words - tagged, of course - allowed out on festive parole.

First, however, to the never-to-be-repeated offer shoved through Eric Smallwood's door in Acklam, Middlesbrough, by his local Safeway supermarket.

Labelled "All the best for Christmas" it offers half price toilet rolls, Quaker Oats for 99p, 40 per cent off parsnips and an acre of the moon for £15.99.

It's not even as if it's ready for take-off, you simply couldn't make it up.

Safeway claims to have "bought" 45,000 lunar acres from Moon Estates, an American company set up in 1980 by former shoe salesman Dennis Hope. Mr Hope describes himself as the "head cheese" of the operation and has appointed a "lunar ambassador" to the UK, Francis Williams from Cornwall.

Two possible snags are a) that the moon isn't his, or Safeway's, to sell and b) there are still people sufficiently off the planet to have a shot at it.

Moon Estates claim that, though a 1967 international treaty forbade nations staking a claim to the moon, nothing was mentioned about individuals. On much the same basis, he reckons to own Mars, Jupiter, Saturn and sundry other faraway places as well.

"It's quite crazy, an utter and complete nonsense," says veteran astronomer (and master xylophone player) Patrick Moore.

"The treaties state that outer space is the province of everybody, like the high seas. It doesn't mean it's there for anyone to grab," says Philip McDougal of the UN Office for Outer Space Affairs. "I could tell everyone that I owned the crown jewels, set up a website on it and write to the Queen telling her that they were no longer her property. Just because she doesn't write back, doesn't mean that she's acquiesced to it."

Hope claims that buyers include Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, John Travolta, Christopher Reeve and a member of the British royal family though, mercifully, he declines to specify. Others say that "owning" an acre of the moon is about as authentic as having a star named after you - something that only her on Coronation Street would be daft enough to fall for.

Safeway insists that the deal is both legal and above board; buyers receive a presentation pack. "At this time of year people are looking for unique and fun presents," says a spokeswoman.

Eric Smallwood demurs. "Have you ever in your life," he asks, "seen such a worthless, useless load of old tosh offered by a reputable company?"

THOUGH not wishing to suggest that the old place is anything but stellar - constellate, indeed - last week's column wondered why on earth The Shadows recorded a tune called Stars Fell on Stockton. Another journey into space.

Theories abound, the common denominator that both moon and muse were high on the night in the early 1960s that Cliff Richard and The Shadows played The Globe, later the ABC, in the High Street.

Charles Harris in Norton, Stockton, composes himself with the claim that the group was taking a break between performances when the news arrived - good news, presumably - that one of the four had become a first-time father. The tune was written in celebration.

The splendidly moustached Jim Jennings in Durham, officially retiring on Friday after almost 28 years as a polliss, is still less penumbrous. It was because The Shadows were so chuffed at being on the same bill as the John Barry Seven, Bobby Vee and Emile Ford and the Checkmates, he insists.

Arnold Alton in Heighington not only pinpoints the spot on the Globe but offers the hitherto little-known information that Darlington Football Club historian Frank Tweddle - new statistical volume available for Christmas - first appeared in The Northern Echo in 1960.

"I recall him putting Buddy Holly's death in the announcements column while we were still at school together," says Arnie. "I hadn't come across anything of the kind until this year, when someone else put Alma Cogan's in the memorials."

Stars Fell on Stockton was the B-side of Wonderful Land, a number one hit - but if any of this makes a small world of The Globe, none of it explains why The Shadows recorded Alice in Sunderland, as well.

SINCE recent columns have been pottering round Hutton Conyers - the village near Ripon from which Jimmy James's sidekick took his name - Gill Wootten recalls long-gone days on the Darlington and Stockton Times when they cast a village pantomime.

Patrick Brompton was the hero, of course, though the heroine Mavis Enderby and her two ugly sisters - Wood Enderby and Bag Enderby - were all from Lincolnshire. Old Bolingbroke, their father, had married the northern beauty Greta Bridge. Robin Hoodsbay, the villain, had two retainers - Bagby and Balk, that little-seen duo from near Thirsk.

Order was finally restored by Sheriff Hutton and the couple married by Bishop Monkton. Apart from the fact that the panto never got past the cast list, they all lived happily ever after.

KEVIN O'Beirne in Sunderland remembers a "well known" poet called Andrew Darlington, reckons that Jimi Hendrix formerly used the name Jimmy James as well - "I don't suppose their paths ever crossed" - and scripts a small claim to fame of his own. He has "inadvertently" written a piece of music which is to be used by a candidate in the next general election.

The constituency is Cheltenham, the candidate Dancing Ken Hanks. He is the Minister for Happiness in the Monster Raving Loony Party.

Despite all that, the spellcheck on his new computer refuses even to acknowledge the name Kevin. Try "chevron" instead, it advises.

...and finally, thanks to the anonymous gentleman who - "cut to the quick" - has written properly to protest at the use of the adjective "old" in proximity to his name. "I'm only eighty four and a half," he says, but was grateful for the original mention, nonetheless, and would have sent an apostrophe (he says) only he's clean out of them.

Thanks also to the well intentioned chap whose card proclaimed how much he loved the column and that he read it every month.

To them, and to all those who have seen these columns through another year - and to those who faithfully read them, daily and monthly - may we wish a happy and grammatical Christmas.

Friend and even foe are invited to a little seasonal largesse in the Britannia, Darlington - just off Bondgate - between 12-3pm on Friday. A certain book may also be, optionally, on sale. After a year of uncommon vicissitudes, we return - rejoicing - on January 10.

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