Reasons To Hate Christmas

It’s almost Christmas and that means just one thing around here: time to dust off the Reasons To Hate Christmas List.

Christmas FearIs it pronounced "ecksmas", "eczema", "Christmas", "crossmas", or "multiplied by mas"? I have to know!

The Weather
Thanks to the Gulf Stream, a hill to the north of my city, and a stretch of water and an island to the south of my city the absolutely most Christmassy weather we ever get is a brownish sleet that turns into a brownish slush. Picture Bing Crosby singing "I’m dreaming of a brownish, slushy sorta Christmas, just like the ones I used to slip over on the pavements to and ruin my jeans." Doesn’t work, does it? No, instead, we get to hear some fantasy Christmas vision that merely reinforces what a crock of crap it all is. Where’s my damn snow?

Coca Cola
Dear Coca Cola, can we get a free Coca Cola vomit bag with all four-packs of two litre bottles please? Your adverts nauseate me with the smiles and the tinkly music and the choral aaahs and the gushy, sentimental, fake joy that ires my rage nodule. And that man who stars as Santa Claus terrifies me. Really, really terrifies me. Clown-like terror. You still taste better than Pepsi though.

Tabloids and Right-Wing Conservative Christian TV Hosts

Tabloid "News"-paper Office, Late November. There’s a meeting going on between the editor and his crack team of "journalists".

Listen up boys, it’s almost December and you know what that means!

Hard-hitting investigative reporting possibly linking fraud and money disappearances in the contracts awarded in the Middle East to this particular time of the year when the poor and needy and families of loved ones kept away from their homes could be given the best present ever?


You’re fired! No, but seriously, good joke there. And the real answer?

Re-run the same headlines from the last five Decembers pretending swarthy people and hippies are corrupting children and destroying the true meaning of Christmas by fabricating a story about a nativity play being cancelled in a school that closed down six years ago because a better school opened up nearby is really down to Liberal Muslim Fundamentalist Satanistic Atheist Cult Immigrant Activists infesting government, the media, education, the military, and those people who hold up Golf Sale signs and forcing through their paedophiliac, Virgin Mary-hating agenda?


Oh yeah, I forgot about our special Seasonal Festive Naked Bingo game that celebrates the life of Jesus.

Carol Singers
Two late-teen skinheads with protruding lower lips grunting three seconds of Silent Night and holding out their tattooed hands do not constitute what I would describe as "Carol Singers".

Xmas CardExterior House Decorations
It’s bad enough trying to look up into the majesty of the deep universe in the night sky during the rest of the year thanks to general light pollution and atmospheric heat haze but from mid October (well, it seems like it) to February that becomes even harder when various households decide to try to outdo one another with their vast quantities of exterior Christmas decorations. Life-size reindeers, fully-decorated trees, Father Christmas inflatables half-deflated, and strings of tens of thousands of twinkling, pulsing, playfully-chasing high-wattage bulbs. Here’s an idea: put them inside your damn house! You wouldn’t like it if I decided to worship the spirit of disco all year around and had strobes, disco balls, animatronic John Travoltas, and AIDS-spreading crackwhores outside my front door, would you?

Christmas Cards
I try not to buy cards when possible but I still do occasionally or I have to pass by one of the numerous card shops "competing" (at those prices? Really? Competition Commission! Card shops! Please! Thankyou!) for business. Christmas Cards are an abomination to the eyes, of course, but worse – far worse – than that is the attack on the auditory system. Fifteen people opening fifteen different cards at fifteen different times playing fifteen different songs on their full range of fifteen different notes producing one single cacophony of tinny, staticky, high-pitcheddy hell! How do the people who work in card shops not pull out weapons and kill everyone?

Christmas Cake and Mince Pies
Throw in some Garibaldi biscuits, Fig Rolls, and a special Marmite Yule Log and you’ve got yourself one hell of a Christmas feast there. No, wait, one Christmas feast hell. Where did the tradition of associating the worst food imaginable with Christmas come into being? I’m guessing in the annals of time some poor sod realised his entire family were popping around, all the shops were shut, and the only thing he could do was whip up some food using all the stuff in the packets at the back of the cupboard with use-by dates written in roman numerals.

Author: Mark

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  1. Well Mark, since I live on that island to the south of your city I fully appreciate your bitterness at never getting a decent snowfall.

    I remember it happening maybe once or twice in my pitiful life, and the resentment I feel when I see those romanticised cards full of thick snow and happy people playing in it has made me a bitter, middle-aged man.

    Of course, what those cards fail to show – with their joyful snowball fights, and thick carpets of soft white Christmas snow – is the sour reality. Old people freezing in their houses, their winter fuel allowance squandered away on sherry and stilton. Icy blizzards rattling through their poorly fitted uPVC windows, as they huddle with their rheumatic legs wrapped in blankets and their arthritic feet shivering in those ridiculous fur-lined tartan slipper-boots they all seem to wear. The broken hips when they slip cartoon-fashion on the poorly salted pavements whilst struggling home with carrier bags laden with and Christmas pudding and Brandy butter.

    Actually, the thought of all that might cheer me up in my twisted little way, but for the knowledge that I shall spend the whole of Christmas day shouting until I am deaf and hoarse because the “olds” insisted on coming to the family meal but refuse to wear a goddamn hearing aid and actually hear anything that’s going on. I hope and pray I fall asleep drunk during the Queens speech that they will also insist we all endure.

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  2. The family meal takes place at my parents and will include my nan who – because she’s of that age – will also insist on watching the Queen’s speech. Not that anyone listens to what she says anymore; comments such as "She likes floral patterns doesn’t she?" and "Oh, she really does wear such nice hats" will drown out any substance from Her Maj.

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  3. And you refrained from mentioning the shopping hell of Crimbo! for shame!

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  4. Mark said …
    Would you like it if I decided to worship the spirit of disco all year around and had strobes, disco balls, animatronic John Travoltas, and AIDS-spreading crackwhores outside my front door, would you?


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  5. My a duck? Picking random words from the dictionary can form sentences but typically the result is garbage. But please try again if you want. Miracles do happen at this time of year after all.

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