Goldfinger ends, and we're plunged into a networked trailer for what's about to come this Christmas Day on ITV. As was the fashion at the time, the theme is "vague Victorian overtones", with a slow pan over an animated snowy village where the lights go on one at a time and some trees happen and it's all very nice. Impossibly long-winded by today's standards, even at 16 seconds; the trailer sting has long been a thing of the past.

Anyway, coming up after the news there's 3-2-poxy-1, the nonchalantly infuriating quiz/variety/pissing about show where the questions are so oblique it's a wonder no-one ever punched Ted Rogers right in the face when he told them that because they picked the lobster they can just about fuck off.

After that, what turned out to be the last episode of George & Mildred, after Yootha Joyce keeled over between the making and releasing of the unnecessary but inevitable movie. Talking of, they're followed by ITV's big Christmas evening movie, Richard Lester & George Macdonald Fraser's "The Three Musketeers", with the all-star cast and such. A fun film, but doomed against All Creatures Great and Small on the other side.

Next: Yay, it's the Morecambe & Wise Christmas Show! Sadly, there will turn out to be marginally more jokes in the special than in the trailer, as their writer Eddie Braben is still under contract at the BBC and Eric's heart is giving him trouble, so instead it's basically an hour-long interview. Frost/Morecambe/Wise, if you like. They did manage to rustle up one new sketch with Glenda Jackson, but on the whole it was like watching Santa do his taxes for an hour.

Then, a special This Is Your Life with the increasingly Greenbackian Eamonn Andrews. I think it was Eric Sykes' life. Finally, Cleo Laine arrives to bring Christmas Day to a screeching halt. Unsurprisingly, ITV got trounced by BBC1 that year. To be fair, ITV only just made it back in time for Christmas from three months of strike action.

Then, under the understanding that viewers know how commercial TV works, we're dropped straight into adverts. First, a re-release of The Aristocats, which I always thought was underrated. It's definitely a B, maybe even high C-list Disney work, but it has its charm. It was just the first Disney film that wasn't jaw-dropping at any moment. Far, far from the last. And it has Uncle Phil in it (Harris, not Shredder), which is a major plus, even for Rock-a-Doodle. This is being bundled with a then-new movie, The London Connection, which I've not heard of, but I suspect one can learn all one needs to know from the fact that it needed the Aristocats to give it a boost. Roy Kinnear's in it, though, so not all bad.

Next: guess what a sale. This time it's at Allied Carpets, who have hired a balding waiter to bother all the customers about the great savings whether they like it or not.

Finally, oh Jesus. A veritable galaxy of stars plugging Texaco: Patricia Hayes, utility "mad old lady" for several decades; Barry Sheene, motorcycling world champion and hairstyle pioneer, and most exciting of all, Michael Crawford as Frank Spencer, except they never say his name out loud because the BBC wouldn't have let them. But Michael Crawford acting camp while wearing a beret? You can't copyright that!

Anyway, Frank falls to his death and then it's over to the Thames studio, which is apparently at the top of that animated village, and Peter Marshall, who's drawn the short straw and has to do the Christmas Day shift. In his usual louche Ulsterman style, he introduces the News from ITN, hosted by Anna Ford. The first headline sounds like the start of an off-colour joke, but is actually about the continuing hostage crisis. They're physically fine but starting to go a bit mental; little do they know they're going be stuck there over a year more. It might have been less, but Reagan had an election to win. Also: a cruise ship broke; the Queen said whatever she said; Don Coggan, ibid; the Pope, ibid; and the British Empire is dying. Oh, and Rudi Dutschke died; Anna doesn't mention it, but he had an epileptic seizure in the bath and drowned. The epilepsy was a result of that time he got shot in the head, making it a slow-motion assassination.

Anna then appears to expect another story to happen. It doesn't, but she keeps 99% of her composure onscreen. She appears about to burst out laughing as soon as the camera's off, though. Maybe Reggie Bosanquet was jumping up and down in the sound booth or something. That man can't have been sober for more than ten minutes of his adult life altogether. Sprig of holly on the logo, as it's Christmas.

Then back with Peter as he introduces 3-2-bleeding-1, very carefully doing the Ted Rogers signature hand gesture. Always start with the back of the hand. By the last series, Rogers was just flailing fingers at the screen at random. No-one questioned it. I actually have the first ten minutes of this, but it's just 3-2-cocking-1 for God's sake.

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