It is the evening of the Telegraph & Argus features department Christmas do, and Barnett - for it is he - is trying to get his festive column completed so he can join his colleagues in a pint and a punch-up in one of the less salubrious city centre hostelries they are wont to patronise at this time of year, and then be home in time for Emmerdale and a nice cup of cocoa.

As he ponders his purple prose, a moan issues from the depths of the ancient lift shaft a little way to his right.

Moan: Woooaaaahhhaaahhoooahh.

Barnett: Is that who I think it is?

Itis indeed the Ghost of Christmas Columnists, making his annual yuletide visit to Barnett. A hunched, beaten-down figure, the spirit drags its chains behind it with much effort, sitting itself down in a cloud of ectoplasmic orbs and a coughing spasm in the chair usually occupied by Barnett's colleague, Mr Mike Priestley.

Barnett: Blimey, you don't look so good. And call that a blood-curdling moan? I thought someone had trapped their fingers in the filing cabinet again.

Ghost: It's the best I can do under the circumstances. I haven't had a good year at all, I'm afraid.

Barnett (with, as ever, one eye on the clock): I suppose you're going to tell me all about it?

Ghost: Do you think it's easy being the Ghost of Christmas Columnists? Do you think I get much thanks for it? Don't you think it's galling sitting around in the afterlife while the likes of the Ghost of Christmas Past swans around, talking about his next film deal and getting his face in the celeb magazines?

Barnett: You have celeb magazines in the afterlife?

Ghost: We certainly do. There's Goodbye! and OD!

and Cold. Needless to say, I don't get in them very much.

Barnett: To be honest, if you walk around with that face all the time, I'm not surprised.

Ghost: Well, that's the problem, you see. The reason I'm like this is your fault.

Barnett: My fault?

Ghost: You and your lot. The columnists. It's like this: If the columnists write lively, amusing columns, then I end the year on a positive note. If the opinion columns are full of doom and despondency, then I fin-ish up like this. And let's face it, there haven't been many laughs in 2005.

Barnett: Well, it's not really the fault of the columnists, is it? I mean, tsunamis, earthquakes, London bombings. . . it's hardly surprising that a lot of people have been fairly downbeat this year.

Ghost: Well, it doesn't do me much good. And if I'm feeling wretched, I'm not going to be inclined to give you a positive judgement at the end of the year, am I?

Barnett: Come on, I think I've tried my best. What about that one last week, about King Kong? That was pretty funny. And the one about animals in the Lake District. I'm sure I did a funny about that Crazy Frog ringtone, as well.

Ghost: Yes, but the laughs are all a bit few and far between aren't they? People open the Telegraph & Ar-gus, they don't want to hear you self-righteously banging on about the latest tragedy, do they? They want a bit of comedy. I mean, with that photo at the top of the page, they're bound to expect it.

Barnett: All right, no need to get personal. So you want me to be funnier next year, is that it?

Ghost: Please, if it's not too much trouble.

Barnett: Anything to help you lighten up.

Ghost: I'm a spirit, I don't weigh. . . oh, haha. You're going to have to try harder than that, you know.

Now say Merry Christmas everybody.

Barnett: Merry Christmas everybody!