It’s the first Sunday in December. As such, my housemates and I are going to spunk £30 on a dead tree, roast some shit, and re-watch Love Actually. I will cheer when that bellend who’s got a stiffy for his best friend’s wife, zips up his turtleneck to the strains of Dido in a moment of pure cinematic angst.
By the time I go to sleep tonight, I will be feeling and looking as festive as a pig in a blanket.
To get you similarly in the mood, here’s a list of the different types of Christmas celebration I (and I’m sure you) will be attending this year:
- Staff Party
No one will eat any dinner. By 10pm, everyone will be ‘the drunkest they’ve ever been on a school night’, and simmering tensions across departments will reveal themselves in a non-confrontational, pass-agg way.
Someone will suggest a dance off, and it will be mostly embarrassing. I will probably be that person, and will resort to thrusting, and making wank gestures with my hands.
I will try to recreate this bit from the Justin Bieber video ‘Sorry’
But not enough people will understand or support me to achieve my artistic vision, and instead there will be a confused conga line.
Taylor Swift’s ‘Shake it Off’ will be played at least twice.
Someone will get fingered.
- Carolling Party
One of my dearest friends will send a group message suggesting we have a Christmas ‘gathering’, and a good old fashioned sing-song.
They will use words like ‘intimate’, ‘chilled’ and ‘quiet one’ to describe the event.
It will start at 5pm.
There will be shop-bought mince pies, mulled wine, and multiple pots of hummus.
Some people will be extremely anxious about liquid falling on the keyboard; others won’t be anxious enough. It will all be very nice, until a friend’s new boyfriend/ girlfriend that I already struggle to tolerate, insists on earnestly performing their own music.
My friend’s neighbours will despise me for being a part of such an event.
- Depressing post-Christmas, pre-New Year party
It’ll be the 27th or the 28th when my home friends finally manage that Christmas reunion we’ve been threatening since September.
It will be at someone’s mum’s house.
Everyone will have the bloated appearance of steroid abusers.
The host will bring out some of their leftovers. They will taste different but the same as my own, and this will make me feel nauseous.
I will have a wonderful time, but be simultaneously overcome with melancholic nostalgia.
- New Year’s Eve
Not technically a Christmas party, but my housemates and I will have been too lazy to remove the tree. And we will have paid £30 for that thing.
I won’t go out on NYE because I live in London, and if I did I would:
- Witness someone pole dancing on the tube
- Witness someone doing a dirty protest on the tube
- Witness disturbingly graphic PDAs on the tube
- Have multiple conversations about the tube being open all night
- Spend £120
Instead, I will create a playlist full of bangers, and tell everyone who turns up at my flat that I’m glad they didn’t end up getting a better offer, and that I fucking love them, and make them dance to Earth, Wind and Fire as it plays on speakers that are not good enough to support the volume.
The next day, I will eat two takeaways, watch three films (Jurassic Park 2 doesn’t count: it’s shit), and text any friend who’s planning to do dry January telling them I’m sorry for calling them a thundercunt for doing dry January.
In short, I will belly flop into 2016, starting as I mean to continue.
Big Girl Pants 