Another family brews up an appalling mixture of port, brandy, Burgundy, almonds and raisins, called glogg, and then, I presume, proceeds to get quietly gloggy. A deeply religious bachelor, whose name is unfortunately not given, ‘once set his Christmas table with all sorts of mechanical toys. As the guests entered the dining room, the wound-up dolls, acrobats, animals, merry-go-rounds began performing their mechanical tricks’ The effect on the guests, already reeling with glogg, must have been a curious one. Somehow, I have the feeling that everybody started turning handsprings, tearing down the smilax, and beating the tar out of him, something he richly deserved.
https://archive.org/stream/bestofsjperelma00pere/bestofsjperelma00pere_djvu.txt
The Best of S.J. Perelman
No, the picture isn’t Gert, it’s Jean Rhys.
And there’s that dog again. Spooky, don’t you think?
Gert Loveday's Fun with Books 
It’s really a pity my reply to this blog is nothing so witty as this take on ‘glogg’. (No mistake, this piss take, I did like the dog: don’t compound my headache and go the whole hog with more quotes and out-takes! I’d need yet more slog — to find rhymes for blogging for gawd’s sake, and glogg.)
Here endeth the lesson; the lesser the better.
Have you been at the mulled wine, Chris?
Keep it up!
Whatchoo implyin’? I’m no’ shlosshed, no shir.
Then you’re not trying hard enough. We are!
Jungle bells, or do I mean bungle jells?
Happy Xmas to the Gerts. Hold yerselves back on the grog and don’t get too sloshed
Too late, Guy. But there was no indecorous behaviour. Hope you and the menagerie have/had a very jolly time.
I prefer New Years.
New Year makes me melancholy. But a good opportunity to do a ferocious cleanup.
It always makes me feel optimistic (the NY)