|Space-Bat greeting hastily recorded by uncomprehending Earthling Andy Brain|
Hawp ye a' hae a peaceful yule. Apairt fae they Tory bastards. Thay kin git a lump o' coal in thair puddin.
Me, ah will be tuckin' intae th' stoatin' lentil roast. An auld Space-Bat tradition. Thistle is a braw cook wi' th' lentils.
Enough o' this processional leid. Sporren oot. Tak' care o' yoursel's.
(Space-Bats flap a jaunty retreat amidst tooting of the horns and flexing of the snowdrifts, back into the Furry Caves for toasting of the carob cakes and floopy dancing.)