I know I’m a bit late but with the Christmas decorations being taken down in my house last night I reflected on the festive period and realised how ridiculous some of it is. So here we go:
5. Drink every single type of alcohol that’s on offer.
Mulled wines the classic, ‘Oh yes please, I’d love some warm wine with berries and bits of wood in. What’s that you say? Whiskey on the rocks? Don’t mind if I do! Peach Schnapps as well?! Set ‘em up and knock ‘em down!’ Before you know it you’re slumped on the sofa in a half conscious dream state while Christmas tunes jingle hauntingly in the background. And it’s not even lunch time yet… on Christmas eve.
4.Watch films on BBC One.
We’ve all done it, a bit Chicken Run or Wallace & Gromit never goes amiss but it becomes desperate when Ben Hur is put on for the 6th year in a row because ‘There’s not much else on.’ Anything, and I mean anything is better. (What happened to The Great Escape this year?! Didn’t see it on anywhere.)
3.Refuse to take off a jumper no matter how hot you get.
It’s mid afternoon, you’re half cut and still slightly hungover from Christmas Eve. You’ve just eaten half your weight in Turkey and Pigs in Blankets and you’re squashed on the sofa between two sleeping family members, usually the grandparents in my case. Everyone has been sat in the same room since about 10 o’clock this morning and the heating is on because your mum thought “It was a bit chill this morning.” Add to this nightmarish situation the fact that almost everyone has been on the Brussel Sprouts and that it is now the witching hour for everyone to start cutting one you suddenly find beads of sweat collecting on your forehead and your face getting increasingly redder. But it’s Christmas, and this is your Christmas jumper, so it’s staying, even if it means you pass out from heat stroke.
2. Eat pretty much every hour.
The onslaught of food starts early, scrambled eggs (with some smoked salmon if you’re lucky) for breakfast, goes down well. Then before you know it, it’s time for some champagne and wait, more food! Smoked Salmon on toast this time, again it goes down well, you’re feeling nicely full now. Then the crisps come out, you know the really nice ones that your mum only buys for parties and Christmas, and you can’t help yourself, despite being full you plough through a whole bowl of them within 10 minutes. Then it’s time for the big event, Christmas dinner! An hour later you’ve eaten more meat than the local butchers stocks and more veg than you’d eat in the whole rest of the year. Plus Christmas pudding and mince pies AND then the cheese board comes out. By this point your vision is blurred, you’re sweating and when you try to walk to the sofa you feel the room spinning slightly.
After a nap you’re awoken by the calls of ‘Does anyone want a mince pie or some Christmas cake?!’ Foolishly you think that you’ve napped off the rest of the food so you’re feeling brave and have a couple of mince pies and a nice generous slice of Christmas cake. Five minutes later you genuinely think you’re going to be sick. This is where the word ‘food coma’ really get’s it’s meaning. You spend the next hour not fully aware of your surroundings, you know people are talking to you but all you can muster is a grunt or nod, it actually hurts to reach for your beer.But then the final battle begins, the Turkey and everything else sandwich is suggested and you know that if you said no now you would lose in this epic battle so you take a deep breath and manage to whisper the words “I’ll have one.”
1. Speak to/be spoken to by complete strangers.
If you’re unlucky enough to have to walk anywhere over the Christmas period, especially but not limited to Christmas Eve/Christmas Day/Boxing Day, it’s a simple fact that every man and his dog will wish you a Merry Christmas. That I don’t mind but when the bastard wants to stop and talk is when I start to get funny. I find myself looking at everyone that walks towards me thinking, “Look mate I know it’s the season of good will to all men and that but if you try and stop me to talk about your plans over the Christmas holidays I will kick that rat looking thing that you call a dog into the nearest frozen pond!” Bah humbug.