Used to be that Christmas wasn't Christmas without a torch. You woke about 4 or 5am, used your foot to locate the weight at the end of
the bed, rolled out from under the covers like John Wayne rolling out from behind the rock to loose off a couple of slugs at the unshaven heavies. Pounce on the parcels, working by touch. The Annuals, yeah! Maybe The Rover or The Adventure (until those two comics were amalgamated with The Wizard), probably something more exotic, like The Tiger or The Lion or even Buffalo Bill. Didn't much matter, where's the bleedin' torch?