Ah Christmas. A time for giving, a time for getting, a time for swearing and throwing pigs and blankets at your little brother who laughed at your new Christmas jumper. Having to spend time with work colleagues you’ve spent the year trying to avoid in the lift, and family members who you’ve muted on Facebook is enough to make anyone scream ‘YOU’RE NOT MY MUM’ (An Eastenders Christmas classic). But whilst telling your Uncle who sympathises with Prince Andrew to fuck off might seem like a good idea, somethings at the dinner table are better left unsaid- at least until you’re out of the roast potato firing zone. Who am I kidding, no one wastes roast potatoes. Here’s my top tips on What not to say this Christmas to avoid that family argument.
Who did you vote for in the general election? Just don’t. This is never going to end well. What exists in your mind as a polite exchange of knowledgeable opinions and concerns for the country will only end with a ‘DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE A SECRET RACIST’ and a ‘What, You hate Jews do you?”. Political conversations belong on Twitter, where you can argue with a total stranger about things neither of you understand. It’s so much easier to block a username than your Gran.
Not another bath bomb. You get the hint, you must stink. Bath bombs, Shower Gel and some weird Body mist no-one knows they purpose of, your bathroom kitchen is going to look like Boots spewed up in it. But of course, you love your present. Another Lynx Africa ser is just what you wanted. You‘ll be thankful for it come September when you find it round the back of the sink.
The meats a bit tough. Your designated cook has been slaving away in the kitchen since 7am, spritzing the Turkey with oil like it’s one of the lads of Geordie Shore prepping for a day at the beach. They’ve shoved their hands up the arse of a bird, also like the lads off Geordie Sh…. never mind. Their hair stinks of goosefat and the tiredness in their eyes circle their pupils like a festive red bauble. They’ve spent months debating whether to follow Gordon Ramsay’s or Jamie Oliver’s recipe, only to forget to season the dried up bird altogether. She’s drier than ghandi’s flip flop and she’s tougher than a Tory cutting NHS funding, but by god almighty the last thing you do is tell the cook what you really think. You must mutter how delicious it is whilst helping it down with a gulp of prosecco in-between each bite. If you’re feeling brave, sneak some under the table for the dog. If he’ll have it.
I don’t even like Christmas. Allow me to let you in to a little Christmas secret, no-one cares. Sure the festive spirit isn’t for everyone but you’ve made it this far, so just shove on your paper hat and give the fortune teller fish a go. And if all that fails, pour yourself another tipple and let the alcohol fade out the noise of people actually having fun.
I don’t want to listen to the Queen’s Speech. The Queen hasn’t sat quietly through rumours of her death started by a guy with a penis as his profile pictures and her years of speculation about her husbands infidelity for you to find your Aunt Karen’s story about her bunion operation more interesting than Her Majesty’s speech. It’s just what we Brits do. Like putting the teabag in first or saying Ant before Dec, the Queen’s speech is a quintessential tradition for all households to raise a glass too. And if you’re not a royalist, it’s just another excuse to drink. Hoorah.
Board Games are for kids. Do the kids have to have all the god damn fun on Christmas Day? They’ve already got Santa, let us have Articulate I beg you. From a good old fashioned game of monopoly which no-one enjoys playing, to a game of ‘HEADS UP’ on your little sisters phone (Okay so it’s technically not a board game but it’s the 21st Century guys, save them trees), spending quality time with people you don’t like, playing games you can’t stand is what Christmas is all about. So crack out the Scrabble board, It’s what Jesus would have wanted.
Check out the other blogs in the #12DaysOfChristmas series!