Magazine article New Statesman (1996)

Let It Go, Let It Go, Let It Go!

Magazine article New Statesman (1996)

Let It Go, Let It Go, Let It Go!

Article excerpt

It's Christmas! The annual one-week interval in which we all have carte blanche to sentimentalise our family relationships, wear novelty hats, eat with a brazen disregard for health and etiquette and spend economy-reviving amounts on goods we don't need or want. It's the time of year when our instincts, both good (showering one another in presents) and bad (getting drunk, watching films with no merit), are allowed to overwhelm the rules of decency and common sense that bind us for the other 51 weeks of the year. In a single phrase, it is, as the old song says, the most wonderful time of the year.

You'll now be bracing yourself for the comic reversal of that first paragraph, in which I reveal that I hate the festive period. But in a sort of pre-emptive strike against the cynical gloom some people adopt at this time of year, I'm using my final pre-Yule column to urge everyone to at least try to have some bloody fun this Christmas.

All right, all the jollity can be a bit cloying, the sight of an amateurishly wrapped jumper can make the heart sink, and even the most fervent admirer of the Home Alone films has probably seen enough of them by now. But really, if there isn't some member of your family, or a friend, or someone you can look forward to pulling a cracker with over a glass of port, you are either so lonely I'm tempted to invite you to my house (tempted, I said, don't push it) or you're just not trying.

It's not as if there is a better alternative. We all know December, January and February are lousy. …

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