It’s the most wonderful time of the year?

Bloody hell! I hate Christmas, the whole thing is an assault course of awfulness from start to finish and then, to top it all off, there is new year to look forward too. It’s like being kicked in the balls for good measure after someone has blasted you in the guts with a shotgun. Hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it. 

It’s great for little kids, they can have all the magic they want as far as I’m concerned. It’s the boozing, the parties, the desperate people trying to find someone at any cost (only surpassed in patheticness on New Year’s Eve of trying to find someone, anyone, to snog you,  that I can’t cope with. It’s all meaningless arbitrary crap. Being single (not by choice) is the fucking pits at this time of year and having a mess of a family makes it worse. And even more tragic, the attempts by people to get you to come along to their Christmas as if being crushed by the weight of depression wasn’t enough, you have to do it in front of witnesses. Last year’s Christmas was a particularly spectacular example of being shat on and having it rubbed in, in retrospect it was an ovature to the year that came after. The year before that was a set up to a monumental row of which no part was my making and before that? A beating by a drunk, family horror stories, going back ad infinitum. 

But below all other depths, the worst thing about Christmas is the patronising, guilt assuaging, do gooding, shit that goes on. The only day food kitchens have a waiting list for volunteers, the concerts, the this, the that, the other. Just don’t make us not enjoy our own Christmases and the obscenity of parties we go to, stuff we buy and food and drink we stuff down our gullet.

Do you know what I want for Christmas? 

No Christmas…. That’s what I want. No birthdays , no Easter, no thanksgiving, no nothing.

Call me naive but I just want an endless  string of days where people are decent to each other, where people make stuff for each other or write them little notes just because, where nasty bastards and bully’s get their just deserts, where narcisists and show offs get ignored. Where the walking wounded get themselves some therapy so they don’t wreck other people’s lives and where people are just honest with each other.

Call me cynical now you gits. I dare you!

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