Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Monday, 14 December 2015
Cameron's Christmas Card
Over at TW&TW I've written a piece about the rhetoric of evil. Meanwhile here, I thought I'd make David Cameron's Christmas card look a little more festive.
Wednesday, 24 December 2014
Tuesday, 9 December 2014
The Eleven Second Sprint: The Insane Mathematics of Trying to Open The Door To Delivery Men
It's happened four times this past week. I've been sitting working at my desk when the doorbell has rang. Ever alert to the buzz, I immediately stopped what I was doing, leapt up, ran out of my office and down the one flight of stairs (about fifteen steps) to the front door. Each time it took me perhaps no more than eleven seconds to move from my desk to that blast of cold fresh air and delivery man odour (aka Denim for Men). Yet every single time, I found the delivery man already standing at the front gate on his way back to his van.
Of course, they all turned back and a couple said 'oh, I was nearly gone' to which I replied (slightly breathless) 'you don't exactly give me much time!' They usually smirk and say 'I can't wait around all day.' Apparently delivery men equate anything over eleven seconds to the full 24 hour day.
Despite my size, I am a fairly quick mover. Somebody smaller or younger or a bit more 'Usain Bolt' might shave a bit of time off my eleven second record. I have a trolley filled with dip pens and ink near the door and I have to squeeze past it to get through. But eleven seconds, I think, is a fairly good time from a sitting start.
What's shocking to think is that had I taken fifteen or twenty seconds, then the delivery guy would have been back in his van and giving his throttle some ankle. I recently had to run from a different room and took perhaps twenty seconds to get to the door only to find the delivery guy climbing back into his van. He was sneering when I literally had to run out into the road to wave him down and he was in a severely unhappy mood when he finally pulled my computer hardware from the back of his van. He didn't even say a word to me.
Now, I know that delivery men have miserable jobs, dominated by hemorrhoids and road rage. I know they're asked to deliver too much during a busy season and that ruptures are an occupational hazard. I know they can't go home, back to their UKIP flags and tattooed children,* until they've emptied their vans. I know that people selfishly order things knowing that they'll never be in to receive them. I have neighbours on three sides who do just that.
However, how quickly do delivery guys think those of us who are home should move and how close to the front door do they think we should live our lives?
My theory is that they must spend their entire day calling at homes where there's nobody in. They have therefore calculated that it's more efficient to ring a doorbell and immediately walk away because in over 50% of cases, nobody will ever answer the door. It's therefore more efficient, in their minds, to have to walk back in the less than 50% of houses where there's somebody in because in over 50% of visits, they save themselves the time of waiting on the doorstep.
This, of course, is a logical fallacy. If they immediately walk away after ringing the bell, they won't ever see people answering the door should those people take more than eleven seconds. And, I further speculate, most people (especially the old and/or infirm) will take more than eleven seconds to get to their front door. It therefore becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy. Delivery men think there are fewer people at home because they only give us eleven sodding seconds to answer the door.
None of which helps me. I still only have eleven seconds to answer the door before the delivery guy disappears up the street. What I ideally need is some kind of mantrap linked to the doorbell. Only, given these days of dumb political correctness, if I did dig myself a pit and had all delivery men fall into a sealed chamber where they'd have to wait until I arrived to deal with them, some people would say that I'd be in the wrong.
It's a mad world.
* A terrible stereotype** used only for comic effect and for which I can only apologise.
** However, a generally accurate stereotype.
Of course, they all turned back and a couple said 'oh, I was nearly gone' to which I replied (slightly breathless) 'you don't exactly give me much time!' They usually smirk and say 'I can't wait around all day.' Apparently delivery men equate anything over eleven seconds to the full 24 hour day.
Despite my size, I am a fairly quick mover. Somebody smaller or younger or a bit more 'Usain Bolt' might shave a bit of time off my eleven second record. I have a trolley filled with dip pens and ink near the door and I have to squeeze past it to get through. But eleven seconds, I think, is a fairly good time from a sitting start.
What's shocking to think is that had I taken fifteen or twenty seconds, then the delivery guy would have been back in his van and giving his throttle some ankle. I recently had to run from a different room and took perhaps twenty seconds to get to the door only to find the delivery guy climbing back into his van. He was sneering when I literally had to run out into the road to wave him down and he was in a severely unhappy mood when he finally pulled my computer hardware from the back of his van. He didn't even say a word to me.
Now, I know that delivery men have miserable jobs, dominated by hemorrhoids and road rage. I know they're asked to deliver too much during a busy season and that ruptures are an occupational hazard. I know they can't go home, back to their UKIP flags and tattooed children,* until they've emptied their vans. I know that people selfishly order things knowing that they'll never be in to receive them. I have neighbours on three sides who do just that.
However, how quickly do delivery guys think those of us who are home should move and how close to the front door do they think we should live our lives?
My theory is that they must spend their entire day calling at homes where there's nobody in. They have therefore calculated that it's more efficient to ring a doorbell and immediately walk away because in over 50% of cases, nobody will ever answer the door. It's therefore more efficient, in their minds, to have to walk back in the less than 50% of houses where there's somebody in because in over 50% of visits, they save themselves the time of waiting on the doorstep.
This, of course, is a logical fallacy. If they immediately walk away after ringing the bell, they won't ever see people answering the door should those people take more than eleven seconds. And, I further speculate, most people (especially the old and/or infirm) will take more than eleven seconds to get to their front door. It therefore becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy. Delivery men think there are fewer people at home because they only give us eleven sodding seconds to answer the door.
None of which helps me. I still only have eleven seconds to answer the door before the delivery guy disappears up the street. What I ideally need is some kind of mantrap linked to the doorbell. Only, given these days of dumb political correctness, if I did dig myself a pit and had all delivery men fall into a sealed chamber where they'd have to wait until I arrived to deal with them, some people would say that I'd be in the wrong.
It's a mad world.
* A terrible stereotype** used only for comic effect and for which I can only apologise.
** However, a generally accurate stereotype.
Friday, 5 December 2014
The Sights and Sounds of Christmas: Yoko Bloody Ono
Tonight we had Santa come flying past on his sled. It was actually a converted trailer dragged by some model of cheap Ford and decorated with fairy lights. Sitting on it was a rather pissed-off looking Santa with a white Afro and clearly somewhere better to go.
Our local businessmen pull this stunt every year to raise money for charity and I usually hide behind the curtains until they're gone. They hit every street during December, belting out a range of crap Christmas classics and never travelling faster than 5mph. My personal hatred of Slade hasn't been tested too much this year and this time we hit lucky and the local businessmen gave us the John Lennon classic: 'Happy Xmas' aka 'Do They Know It's Christmas' aka 'And So This Is Christmas'. I have a soft spot for the song. Lennon was my favourite Beatle and I don't particularly hate about 75% of the song or the way he sings it. Yoko Ono, however, is another matter. When they were about five or six streets away I could still hear her caterwaul like somebody rubbing a half-strangled cat down a chalkboard.
The way I cope is to think of it as John Lennon's greatest hoax perpetuated upon the Christmas celebrating nations. Why else would our festive season echo to the out-of-tune warbling of a woman who actually believes in New Age mystical nonsense? It's enough to make Elizabeth McGovern's First Noel sound almost tuneful...
Our local businessmen pull this stunt every year to raise money for charity and I usually hide behind the curtains until they're gone. They hit every street during December, belting out a range of crap Christmas classics and never travelling faster than 5mph. My personal hatred of Slade hasn't been tested too much this year and this time we hit lucky and the local businessmen gave us the John Lennon classic: 'Happy Xmas' aka 'Do They Know It's Christmas' aka 'And So This Is Christmas'. I have a soft spot for the song. Lennon was my favourite Beatle and I don't particularly hate about 75% of the song or the way he sings it. Yoko Ono, however, is another matter. When they were about five or six streets away I could still hear her caterwaul like somebody rubbing a half-strangled cat down a chalkboard.
The way I cope is to think of it as John Lennon's greatest hoax perpetuated upon the Christmas celebrating nations. Why else would our festive season echo to the out-of-tune warbling of a woman who actually believes in New Age mystical nonsense? It's enough to make Elizabeth McGovern's First Noel sound almost tuneful...
Friday, 28 November 2014
This 'Black Friday' Nonsense
The advantage of my still getting so much Chinese spam is that it means that not every email I received this morning was trying to excite me about 'Black Friday'. Just in case you hadn't noticed, today is 'Black Friday' and I refuse to remove the black marks around those words because I refuse to allow that Yank-built bastard concept to enter into my vocabulary.
There's a falsely held belief that it was the Coca Cola corporation who invented the modern Christmas. Before Coke turned Santa red, so the myth would have us believe, he'd been some other colour, perhaps in a paisley shirt, plaid trousers, and with a dandy kipper tie. Before Cola's marketing whizzes got hold of him, Santa Claus (or Father Christmas) was Santiago Norman, bringer of the winter molluscs which we would have warded off by draping seaweed around the frame of our beds. They were simpler timers when Christmas morning was a time for bullying a hog and sticking needles in a pine cone.
Sadly, the Cola myth is all rubbish but there must be something about that particular tale which people seem to like. Or at least, certain people like. I mean, of course, that I particularly like. I like the idea that we can trace the modern Christ-free Christmas back to a time before it became a time for high tech toys and sodding the expense. It would be somehow fitting if the modern monster were the creation of a huge multinational company who didn't really have our best interests at heart.
Yet I have to accept that it is a false myth and only a madman would claim that a tyrannical billion dollar American company could, on whim, create a national holiday in honour of the god Mammon which everybody starts to celebrate by jamming their elbows into the eye sockets of the people standing next to them. There's no way a company could do that. It's just impossible.
Of course, it's equally impossible to believe that the police have been called to 11 different Tesco stores this morning where fighting had broken out among people so viciously materialistic that in the words of one woman 'I wanted a television, couldn't find a television, so I grabbed a Dyson and I'm not too sure if I want a Dyson or not'.
You have to hand it to Amazon. They're invented a new seasonal holiday which improves on Christmas which traditionally was a time when other people bought you things you didn't want. Black Friday is now a time when you buy yourself things you don't want. It's both genius and so utterly depressing.
There's a falsely held belief that it was the Coca Cola corporation who invented the modern Christmas. Before Coke turned Santa red, so the myth would have us believe, he'd been some other colour, perhaps in a paisley shirt, plaid trousers, and with a dandy kipper tie. Before Cola's marketing whizzes got hold of him, Santa Claus (or Father Christmas) was Santiago Norman, bringer of the winter molluscs which we would have warded off by draping seaweed around the frame of our beds. They were simpler timers when Christmas morning was a time for bullying a hog and sticking needles in a pine cone.
Sadly, the Cola myth is all rubbish but there must be something about that particular tale which people seem to like. Or at least, certain people like. I mean, of course, that I particularly like. I like the idea that we can trace the modern Christ-free Christmas back to a time before it became a time for high tech toys and sodding the expense. It would be somehow fitting if the modern monster were the creation of a huge multinational company who didn't really have our best interests at heart.
Yet I have to accept that it is a false myth and only a madman would claim that a tyrannical billion dollar American company could, on whim, create a national holiday in honour of the god Mammon which everybody starts to celebrate by jamming their elbows into the eye sockets of the people standing next to them. There's no way a company could do that. It's just impossible.
Of course, it's equally impossible to believe that the police have been called to 11 different Tesco stores this morning where fighting had broken out among people so viciously materialistic that in the words of one woman 'I wanted a television, couldn't find a television, so I grabbed a Dyson and I'm not too sure if I want a Dyson or not'.
You have to hand it to Amazon. They're invented a new seasonal holiday which improves on Christmas which traditionally was a time when other people bought you things you didn't want. Black Friday is now a time when you buy yourself things you don't want. It's both genius and so utterly depressing.
Monday, 17 November 2014
Free Christmas Card For Anybody That Wants One
[caption id="attachment_4491" align="alignright" width="268"]
Superglued polar bears[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_4487" align="alignright" width="224"]
Labrador pelt[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_4493" align="alignright" width="301"]
Baby seal (unclubbed)[/caption]
If you're anything like me (and, if you are, then I feel sorry for you) then you won't be receiving many Christmas cards this year. I don't have a large circle of friends and those few friends I do have know that I'm an old fashioned God fearing atheist. Yet that doesn't mean that I don't enjoy sending cards. I'm one of those poor sods who actually makes his own cards which I send out and suspect people then think: bloody cheapskate, sending me this hand drawn cartoon when I wanted a mass produced Santa...
[caption id="attachment_4490" align="alignright" width="256"]
The Edmonds Sphincter[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_4489" align="alignright" width="245"]
Immigrant labour[/caption]
In previous years, I've adopted my Stan Madeley moustache and novelty sombrero to send cards to random celebrities. This year, however, I'm not sure what I'll do, and that's a special shame because a pile of cards have just landed on my doormat courtesy of the International Fund for Animal Welfare.
I'm not sure why the International Fund for Animal Welfare thought I might want some Christmas cards. I suspect it's their way of mocking my mild autism and low quota of friends. I'm even less sure why they think I might feel obliged to send them some money. It seems a rather presumptuous thing to do: send a person a product they've not asked for and then expect prompt payment for that product.
[caption id="attachment_4492" align="alignright" width="290"]
Plastic robin[/caption]
I mentioned this to somebody this morning they thought it would only be right to stick the cards back into the prepaid envelope and return them to the International Fund for Animal Welfare. However, that seems like a lot of effort on my behalf when I didn't actually want the bloody things in the first place. It's like those bastards at Cleaneazy or those bigger bastards at Avon who stick catalogues through your letterbox and get shirty when you rip them up. 'But that was my property!' they protest. To which I reply: 'the moment you stuck it through my letterbox, it became my property. Now bugger off and don't do it again'.
[caption id="attachment_4488" align="alignright" width="197"]
Elk hunter's sweater[/caption]
Have I mentioned that I find it hard to make friends?
So, sending the cards back would involve effort and the charity mob would surely just repackage the cards and then send them to another poor victim. I don't want to feed this cycle of unwanted Christmas card sending.
So I have a dilemma.
Or I had a dilemma until I came up with a solution.
[caption id="attachment_4485" align="alignright" width="315"]
Dog sniffing its balls[/caption]
If you suspect that you're going to be depressing light on Christmas cards this year or if you'd just like another Christmas card to the hundreds you're bound to receive, then drop me an email. All I need is your name and address and you can leave the rest to me (stamp). I'll personally sign each card with a name that might not be my own and then, time and inspiration permitting, I might even scribble some kind of cartoon onto the front cover. Failing that, I'll simply deface the card in some darkly humorous way that amuses me but will ensure no Christian lingers long by your fireplace.
[caption id="attachment_4486" align="alignright" width="182"]
Stuffed cat[/caption]
I only have ten cards so you might want to be quick if you want one of the more tasteful cards. If you want a particular card from the lousy selection on offer and displayed throughout this blog post, please indicate. The cards will be with you shortly or whenever I can get access to a post office or use a friend's franking machine when they're not looking.
Superglued polar bears[/caption][caption id="attachment_4487" align="alignright" width="224"]
Labrador pelt[/caption][caption id="attachment_4493" align="alignright" width="301"]
Baby seal (unclubbed)[/caption]If you're anything like me (and, if you are, then I feel sorry for you) then you won't be receiving many Christmas cards this year. I don't have a large circle of friends and those few friends I do have know that I'm an old fashioned God fearing atheist. Yet that doesn't mean that I don't enjoy sending cards. I'm one of those poor sods who actually makes his own cards which I send out and suspect people then think: bloody cheapskate, sending me this hand drawn cartoon when I wanted a mass produced Santa...
[caption id="attachment_4490" align="alignright" width="256"]
The Edmonds Sphincter[/caption][caption id="attachment_4489" align="alignright" width="245"]
Immigrant labour[/caption]In previous years, I've adopted my Stan Madeley moustache and novelty sombrero to send cards to random celebrities. This year, however, I'm not sure what I'll do, and that's a special shame because a pile of cards have just landed on my doormat courtesy of the International Fund for Animal Welfare.
I'm not sure why the International Fund for Animal Welfare thought I might want some Christmas cards. I suspect it's their way of mocking my mild autism and low quota of friends. I'm even less sure why they think I might feel obliged to send them some money. It seems a rather presumptuous thing to do: send a person a product they've not asked for and then expect prompt payment for that product.
[caption id="attachment_4492" align="alignright" width="290"]
Plastic robin[/caption]I mentioned this to somebody this morning they thought it would only be right to stick the cards back into the prepaid envelope and return them to the International Fund for Animal Welfare. However, that seems like a lot of effort on my behalf when I didn't actually want the bloody things in the first place. It's like those bastards at Cleaneazy or those bigger bastards at Avon who stick catalogues through your letterbox and get shirty when you rip them up. 'But that was my property!' they protest. To which I reply: 'the moment you stuck it through my letterbox, it became my property. Now bugger off and don't do it again'.
[caption id="attachment_4488" align="alignright" width="197"]
Elk hunter's sweater[/caption]Have I mentioned that I find it hard to make friends?
So, sending the cards back would involve effort and the charity mob would surely just repackage the cards and then send them to another poor victim. I don't want to feed this cycle of unwanted Christmas card sending.
So I have a dilemma.
Or I had a dilemma until I came up with a solution.
[caption id="attachment_4485" align="alignright" width="315"]
Dog sniffing its balls[/caption]If you suspect that you're going to be depressing light on Christmas cards this year or if you'd just like another Christmas card to the hundreds you're bound to receive, then drop me an email. All I need is your name and address and you can leave the rest to me (stamp). I'll personally sign each card with a name that might not be my own and then, time and inspiration permitting, I might even scribble some kind of cartoon onto the front cover. Failing that, I'll simply deface the card in some darkly humorous way that amuses me but will ensure no Christian lingers long by your fireplace.
[caption id="attachment_4486" align="alignright" width="182"]
Stuffed cat[/caption]I only have ten cards so you might want to be quick if you want one of the more tasteful cards. If you want a particular card from the lousy selection on offer and displayed throughout this blog post, please indicate. The cards will be with you shortly or whenever I can get access to a post office or use a friend's franking machine when they're not looking.
Friday, 8 November 2013
One Friday that definately wasn't as good as Christmas
If there was a day when I needed a phone call from Michael Heath saying ‘congratulations’ for the cartoons, then today would have been that day. There hasn’t been a phone call, an email, or a sniff of good news. For my health I think I’ll now stop checking The Spectator website for the competition announcement. I don’t think I could take the disappointment. Not today.
My lack of a blog post yesterday should have confirmed that it was a hard day but I enjoyed working long hours and I got a lot done. Today I’m not enjoying as much. In fact, it’s been a freakishly hellish Friday. I wish I could blog about it but I can’t. Today I really needed a friendly ear but there’s none to be had anywhere.
To clear my mind, I went shopping but that didn’t help. Not only didn’t I find a friendly ear, I was disgusted to see my local Tesco are now declaring that ‘there is nothing as good as Christmas’. I know. Horrible, isn’t it, to see religious persecution writ large in their seasonal advertising. I don’t know… To me it sounds just a little too much like they’re saying to Jewish people that Yom Kippur isn’t as good as Christmas, to Muslims that Christmas is far superior to Ramadan, to Hindus that Krishna Janmashtami is a mere distraction because there’s only one really meaningful religious holiday on the calendar. They’re shouting to Pagans: ‘Hey, you Pagans! Your Autumnal Equinox isn’t a patch on Christmas because there really is nothing as good as Christmas.’ I’d be surprised if Pagans weren’t offended. I think I can even hear their moonbeam wheat crystal ear pendants / dreamcatchers rattling as they murmur spells over their flagons of cider.
Of course, Tesco are not just talking about major religious holidays. They’re saying that there’s ‘nothing’ better than Christmas. So, a mother’s love isn’t as good as Christmas. National prosperity isn’t as good as Christmas. A small puppy just missing the front wheels of a loaded Tesco refrigerated wagon isn’t as good as Christmas and, to my ears, that sounds like Tesco saying that they wish that puppy dead.
The end of war isn’t as good as Christmas, feeding the starving isn’t as good as Christmas, and even world peace isn’t as good as Christmas. When Obama rings Putin and asks for complete nuclear disarmament and an end to all proxy wars, Putin will simply say, ‘Barak, that sounds like it’s the best thing ever but haven’t your forgotten about Christmas?’
‘Hot damn!’ cries Obama and slams down the phone as he reaches for a small puppy to throw under a refrigerated wagon.
But perhaps I’m not realising the full significance of what Tesco are saying. The beginning of the universe, the very Big Bang itself, which brought everything into existence including Christmas, even that isn’t as good as Christmas in Tesco’s all-seeing eyes. Humanity and civilisation means nothing to Tesco. Customer satisfaction isn’t as good as Christmas, heaving no horse meat in their burgers isn’t as good as Christmas. Damn it! Tesco themselves are not as good as Christmas, which I grant you is the only part of this which is believable. They’re definitely not as good as Christmas.
I mean, it’s not as though we’re talking about Asda…
My lack of a blog post yesterday should have confirmed that it was a hard day but I enjoyed working long hours and I got a lot done. Today I’m not enjoying as much. In fact, it’s been a freakishly hellish Friday. I wish I could blog about it but I can’t. Today I really needed a friendly ear but there’s none to be had anywhere.
To clear my mind, I went shopping but that didn’t help. Not only didn’t I find a friendly ear, I was disgusted to see my local Tesco are now declaring that ‘there is nothing as good as Christmas’. I know. Horrible, isn’t it, to see religious persecution writ large in their seasonal advertising. I don’t know… To me it sounds just a little too much like they’re saying to Jewish people that Yom Kippur isn’t as good as Christmas, to Muslims that Christmas is far superior to Ramadan, to Hindus that Krishna Janmashtami is a mere distraction because there’s only one really meaningful religious holiday on the calendar. They’re shouting to Pagans: ‘Hey, you Pagans! Your Autumnal Equinox isn’t a patch on Christmas because there really is nothing as good as Christmas.’ I’d be surprised if Pagans weren’t offended. I think I can even hear their moonbeam wheat crystal ear pendants / dreamcatchers rattling as they murmur spells over their flagons of cider.
Of course, Tesco are not just talking about major religious holidays. They’re saying that there’s ‘nothing’ better than Christmas. So, a mother’s love isn’t as good as Christmas. National prosperity isn’t as good as Christmas. A small puppy just missing the front wheels of a loaded Tesco refrigerated wagon isn’t as good as Christmas and, to my ears, that sounds like Tesco saying that they wish that puppy dead.
The end of war isn’t as good as Christmas, feeding the starving isn’t as good as Christmas, and even world peace isn’t as good as Christmas. When Obama rings Putin and asks for complete nuclear disarmament and an end to all proxy wars, Putin will simply say, ‘Barak, that sounds like it’s the best thing ever but haven’t your forgotten about Christmas?’
‘Hot damn!’ cries Obama and slams down the phone as he reaches for a small puppy to throw under a refrigerated wagon.
But perhaps I’m not realising the full significance of what Tesco are saying. The beginning of the universe, the very Big Bang itself, which brought everything into existence including Christmas, even that isn’t as good as Christmas in Tesco’s all-seeing eyes. Humanity and civilisation means nothing to Tesco. Customer satisfaction isn’t as good as Christmas, heaving no horse meat in their burgers isn’t as good as Christmas. Damn it! Tesco themselves are not as good as Christmas, which I grant you is the only part of this which is believable. They’re definitely not as good as Christmas.
I mean, it’s not as though we’re talking about Asda…
Friday, 1 November 2013
Merry Christmas From The Spine!
Merry Christmas!Yes, I know we’re barely into November but we have to rid ourselves of those outmoded concepts such as Christmas at Christmastime. PC World’s website has been in the Christmas spirit (baubles) for the last week and my local Wilkinsons have been there for the past two months. I’m already risking strangulation from the low-hanging decorations, asphyxiation from the fumes coming off the newly-moulded plastic toys just in from mainland China, plus I risk a battering should I vent any of my anti-Christmas sentiment around the gleeful grease-haired mothers already stocking up on the cheaply tattooed chocolate snowmen.
Christmas this year began back in late September, the first time Christmas has come so early. I think it has something to do with the traditional Christian calendar which this year saw the Feast of St Argoscard fall on a Sunday with a full moon which brings Christmas a whole two months earlier than normal.
The problem is that not many people understand the real meaning of Christmas: the two months of quasi-CIA brainwashing as the TV feeds us lifestyles that don’t quite match our reality. Like some great celestial switch has just been flicked by God’s grubby thumb, the adverts suddenly changed overnight. Every one involves some daytime TV skirt flouncing down a snowy road with large gaudy bags hanging from her flimsy wrists. Then she spots her TV hubby non-entity waving from a window where he’s hanging Santa’s bollocks from his plastic pine. Then they kiss under mistletoe whist supping glasses of rum. Cue the shots of the steaming Christmas pudding covered in white sauce which makes me feel ill every time I see it. Then they roll out Grandpa to sit laughing as they open presents. Dad’s been bought a power drill which I always find remarkable that he doesn’t use to bore into his own skull. And oh look! He’s bought Mom some sexy lingerie! She winks, he smiles, Grandpa looks puzzled as the kids look delighted by their new £600 iPads…
Then it’s the message: ‘Christmas is perfect when it’s done with XXX’. For XXX insert your high street chain of choice. Or leave it as it is if you enjoy your Christmas racy, perhaps with strippers wearing sleighbells…
But who am I kidding? I might be sick of Christmas already but the majority of people are just getting started. I’m probably alone in fearing the next two months of having to tell friends and family that I really don’t want anything and that I want to be left alone. I don’t want to stop writing and drawing over Christmas because I love writing and drawing. Thankfully, I don’t have the kind of job that in previous years meant a dreadful Christmas ‘do’: sitting in some grim restaurant pushing inedible Greek food around my plate because I know it would set off my food allergy. At least I don’t have to sit watching humourless people slowly descend into drunkenness with all the jovial fun that involves.
Those sodding Samaritan messages that ruin the TV over Christmas have it all wrong. It’s not the people alone at Christmas that I feel sorry for. It’s the poor buggers stuck carving turkey whilst forced to wear crappy paper hats which always fall over your eyes when you’re handling a lethal vibrating blade. Then there’s the eating-until-you-feel-sick which, I’m happy to say, I’ve managed to avoid since I officially stopped subscribing to the modern Christmas about two or three years ago. Some people could argue that I’m miserable but I don’t need some giddy marketing Samantha to brainwash me into thinking that the Christmas spirit involves my boosting the annual sales of high street retailers or increasing the national debt sending my funds to China via Amazon.
If Christmas really was the Christmas of ‘A Christmas Carol’ or ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ then I wouldn’t have any problem with it. I’d be as Christmas spirited as anybody. I’m just not sure when the Christmas message stopped being about individuals giving thanks to their family and realising something important about being human. Instead it became an extension of our greed, our materialism, a way of controlling us though powerful mechanisms of suggestion: guilt, greed, avarice. If you complain about queuing up in the crowds to spend £15 on that John Bishop Christmas comedy DVD that will £3 on Boxing Day, then I have no sympathy for you.
As if any of this matters… Christmas gets earlier every year and few complain and nobody listens to those of us that do. What does individual opinion really matter in markets worth billions? Spend or don’t spend. I mean as much as a single light going out on the Trafalgar Square Christmas tree.
Saturday, 19 March 2011
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