Bah Humbug! The Modern Scrooge’s Christmas
There’s so much Christmas around here I could expectorate tinsel. Christmas used to be fun with granddad smoking rolling tobacco indoors and grandma swearing at him and Mum force-feeding everyone her strange homemade mince pies that tasted vaguely of cigarettes and Dad building train-sets that caught fire. Now they’re all dead, so Christmas is a tree with no presents around its base.
Instead of sliding across central London on sledges and hiding snowballs in the freezer for later we’re now wading through warm water and watching the downpour flooding our roads and rail lines. Cheers, global warming. Greta Thunberg is the only one who cares and she gets trolled for it.
The past is all around us at this time of the year. Christmas carols on a piped loop, fake retail jollity, artificial trees, plastic snowmen – it could be any time between 1975 and the present, especially if you look at the BBC. This year there are new versions of A Christmas Carol, Cinderella, Gavin and Stacey, Worzel Gummidge, Paddington, Christine Keeler and Dr Who. Perhaps they’ll revamp The Black & White Minstrel Show too. Or perhaps they could run something that’s not over 50 years old.
Oxford Street’s lights have reached the peak of impersonality – no angels or Santas this year but a series of street-wide LED screens showing fake snow and retail opportunity-led adverts from the same kind of people who tried to turn Holborn into ‘Midtown’.
What a wonderful year it’s been, so let’s all pretend it’s going to be all right from now on. It’s the start of Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s reign of awfulness, as the serial fantasist who wrecked every job he’s ever had (in the Foreign Office he failed to apply himself with any consistency or purpose to anything, and as Mayor he behaved like a half-listening tinfoil-hatted dictator). Now he gets to tiller the country over a cliff.
Let’s watch some Christmas films instead. I recommend:
Black Christmas (1974)
Better Watch Out
A Christmas Story