It’s November. It’s raining. Do we all really want Mariah Carey and tinsel rearing its sparkly head just yet?
The rule seems to be that; as soon as the cockerel crows over a sea of slightly weather-worn pumpkins, we must all start decking the halls with boughs of holly.
The vast swathes of overpriced wrapping paper come into shops – buy it in January if you can stomach it after the festivities – and coffee shops bring out cinnamon-based everything.
The obvious reason for extending the festive fun is, drum-roll please, money!
Supermarkets would like it if you bought mince pies for a little bit longer and weight-loss classes would like you to feel especially fat for it afterwards so you subscribe to them.
There are people out there who genuinely adore Christmas in its three month entirety and, with every bow they put on a present, a little bit of wee comes out in excitement.
I am not one of these people.
Christmas has become a tiresome, bloated mess with a paunch that overhangs more and more of the year.
I suppose we that have a brief dalliance with Christmas should think ourselves lucky compared to those miserable folk that work through summer; making nothing but eggnog and preparing lovely, tasty turkeys. I doubt very highly that many of those people want to hear George Michael again, like Last Christmas (I apologise).
I suppose the fact that we do celebrate Christmas so early and over such an extended time period means more jobs. But these are only temporary and all of the workers over the period will have paranoia and will be deemed clinically insane after permanent attacks from looped Christmas songs.
I’ve been trying to think what the worst thing about the whole affair is and believe me, all of the listed, slightly ranty, things so far are ugly examples of why but I honestly think it might be the Jesus-y bit.
I know the whole thing is his birthday and everything but the constant reminders that: while we crack open a bottle of something, or open a present (it’ll be socks); we should turn our mind to the baby Jesus and his virgin birth (there isn’t time to go into that now).
We don’t burn Catholics at Halloween anymore, Valentine’s Day is more about Tinder now and there’s nothing saintly about it- so why should we celebrate the birth of person that could have existed at some point, if we don’t subscribe to the notion?
I’m not trying to end Christmas, not for a second. I don’t have a problem with present giving. It’s a lovely thing to do. It brings joy. Don’t stop doing that. And drinking/eating to excess- it’s a nice excuse for it. I just want to celebrate without the spectral baby judging me for having another Baileys.
So remember, every time you peel that foil off a mince pie, offer them around and forget about the son of God.
Below are a few opinions from the public in Nottingham City Centre: