Well, Peter Kay is back in a job; I guess it must be nearly Christmas. In the old days, Christmas was a special day to commemorate the birth of Jesus. Nowadays, it seems to commemorate who is lucky enough to win the X Factor.
Whilst the thought of Wagner in a santa hat makes my stomach churn, it is images such as these (albeit traumatising) that make Christmas what it is. First on the hit list: the Marks and Spencer’s advert. Now, doesn’t it give you that festive cheer? This year’s advert is almost a parody of Strictly Come Dancing- in that it is full of vaguely familiar faces that can’t dance for shit. It is so disturbingly cosy that whilst urging you to purchase whatever it is Twiggy is twirling about in; it also makes you want to poke yourself in the eye with a pinecone. Of course, this is not the most annoying advert of the festive season. Four words: Here come the girls.
Another tradition of Christmas is the music. Whilst the ongoing torrent of All I
Want for Christmas playing in every club on every night of the week can get extremely tedious, there is joy to be found in being able to play Shakin’ Stevens and Wizzard at top volume without impending guilt. Of course, Westlife are likely to have a new single out that resembles every generic ballad they’ve ever made, so make sure you purchase that. Has anyone ever noticed that they only appear from November to January? They’re definitely no East-17.
Oh, and of course! The eating. There is a reason that turkey sandwiches aren’t a popular food choice post-January. Why is that Mum feels she needs to make enough food for a small army? It’s all well and good stocking the cupboards, that is until the food guilt and New Year’s resolutions coincide. You’ll be starving on the detox diet when January 3 comes around and no-one wants to see you on your hands and knees, cramming enough cranberry sauce and Babybels in your mouth to make even Michelle McManus wince.
Preparation running up to Christmas is paramount. I personally would advise practising your grateful face when receiving shit gifts and making some notes on what you’re going to say to the relatives you detest. Drinking a glass of sherry a night is mandatory, as it is the only season in which you will not be branded an alcoholic. Also bear in mind that it’s also the only time in the year when it is acceptable for you and the rugby team to dress as elves on a night out to the Carleton.
Truth is, it isn’t Christmas until the Coca-Cola advert comes on, and considering that the iconic lorry has been gracing our screens for the last three weeks, I’d better get writing to Santa. I have been a good girl all year. Almost.
