Every year the press get's itself into a terrible state about Muslims no doubt in cahoots with the pc brigade banning Christmas in order to torment the all important indigenous people.
The notion that these stories are all but made up is of course unthinkable, which begs the question when are they going to get round to banning it round my way? It shows no signs of abating, in fact even the bloody Muslims have joined in, though I've not seen this pc brigade we hear so much about skipping around in party hats. I expect they're hiding somewhere just waiting to pounce.
It's not that I mind Christmas in itself. One get's time off work, there are lights and decorations, someone usually dies in Eastenders and there's a lot of drinking. In that respect it means that once a year the rest of the nation resembles what goes on in my head during idle moments -though with less in the way of kittens.
It's the fucking gifts I can't stand -that and the physical contact. This year in work we had the usual 'Secret Santa' draws in the various offices. I ended up in draws in two offices, which meant buying two presents and receiving two presents. It's just as well my mother used to lecture me on not giving to receive because I'd have been bloody furious otherwise. I spent hours on my gifts whereas one of my Secret Santas might as well have popped into the service station for a bunch of withered mixed flowers and a chamois leather.
Naturally I have undertaken detective work to establish precisely who my enemy is and have been stunned to learn that such a seemingly nice chap can hold me in such contempt. It's all the more frustrating because I've lost count of all the bitchy things I could have said about him during the year but held back because I thought wearing Simpsons ties in the office didn't necessarily mean he was evil. I think for my New Years resolution I shall revert to despising everyone until they prove themselves to be good eggs.
Finally I ask you all to note the clip at the top of the page. It's part one of three of the 1977 Christmas special of The Good Life. As Grace Dent notes in the Guardian it might well be Penelope Keith's finest acting hour. I love the charecter of Margo Leadbetter to the extent that I have to remind myself, sadly she isn't real and as such I shall never be admitted to one of her bridge parties. Do take the time to watch the episode- it's quite the hoot.