Looking out of your window you would swear it was Christmas. Well, it isn’t. Don’t let the snow fool you. Just because some idiots have had their decorations in the window since Halloween doesn’t make them right either. No, it doesn’t make you more ‘fun’ than the rest of us or happier either. It makes you a Knob.
Christmas is a pain in the hole and everyone knows it. That ‘magical’ time of the year when we’re all supposed to wish for world peace and love each other. Well that’s just balls.
It’s the time of year when you have to spend three months planning what you are going to buy your friends and family, or how can I waste a tenner buying you some useless piece of crap that will never see the light of day while you do the same for me. Sorry folks but I’d rather keep my tenner and you keep yours to spend on something you might actually need like hot water or petrol. You know, the things that actually help you in your everyday life. Even the penniless scrape together enough money that could be better spent on feeding their children rather than buying them the latest plastic whore with the nice fancy plastic car that gives children unhealthy and unrealistic expectations on life. I also find something oddly unsettling about kids unwrapping a doll at Christmas. I’m not sure cot death in a box is appropriate for children.
Then you have to spend November listening to ‘I’ve done all my Christmas shopping… already’. Do you know what? I don’t care. It doesn’t make me any less of a person if I do all my shopping by picking the last day for Christmas delivery and sitting with my laptop and emotionlessly ordering presents online.
Along with these gifts you’re expected to spend a small fortune on 10p worth of cardboard with some unamusing picture on the front and generic stone cold sentiment inside to send my wishes onto my nearest and dearest. You’ll be lucky to get a text. People moan about the depletion of the rainforest and then send out hundreds of these things. Why bother?
About mid-December the obligatory work Christmas night out takes place. It’s so much fun having a night out with people not interesting enough to be real friends. Everyone plays nice while not so secretly despising each other. It only gets remotely enjoyable when you all gather round in unity as you watch the work slag getting fingered by the boss out the back.
After months of preparation you are left with Christmas itself. TV is meant to get better but it doesn’t. If you can avoid the shit films you’ve all seen a million times even though you secretly hated them the first time then you are left with those woeful one off comedy specials. These are usually filled with the jokes not witty or clever enough to make it into the actual series and are generally driven by the large bag of cash thrown at the creator of the show who, at this point, has given up on the idea as the third series was already scraping the comedy barrel.
One thing can be said about the generic shite on the box. At least it means you can sit like a Zombie and ignore the family like God intended. But Christmas is a time for family I hear you cry. Well if I wanted to spend that much quality time with them I’d still live there. Sitting in silence with nothing to say to each other while slowly drinking yourself to death in the hope that it will be sweet relief in comparison to your parents rowing, your brothers and sisters droning on about their futile existence or your granny quietly pissing herself in the corner while grandad falls asleep while sporting a sizeable erection. It’ll be lonely this Christmas? If only.
Anybody still excited about Christmas?
I actually am because no matter how much we love to moan about it and get on like it’s one big chore, deep down we wouldn’t have it any other way. I know I wouldn’t.