If you think Christmas is indulgent, remember the Land of Cockaigne. By David Horspool
I’m looking at a picture of three well-padded chaps lying on the ground beneath a table laden with pies and poultry. These overindulged revellers planning to sleep it off might seem a familiar enough scene. But the artist has added some peculiar touches. In the foreground, what appears to be an egg, its top removed and a knife dug into it, has sprouted legs and is skipping over to the man who lies spread-eagled, staring at the sky. ...
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