subscribe
/ Sign Out

Why you're a weird, socially-dysfunctional Christmas guest. By your in-laws

WE’RE not the ones who ruin Christmas with our weird behaviour and by being out-of-touch dinosaurs – you’re the problem. Here’s why.

You insist on us following your deranged traditions

We do Christmas properly in our house. That means waking up at 4am, going for a freezing early morning swim, and pointedly not opening our presents until after the King’s Speech. When you are our guest it’s a pain having to do abnormal things like not unwrapping presents one at a time in front of a room of silent onlookers. We’d disown you if we could.

You burden us with your exhausting list of dietary requirements

Traditional Christmas dinners include sprouts, parsnips and whatever fad trendy chefs have recommended in newspaper supplements. Then you arrogantly barge in, daring to heat up the vegetarian alternative you pre-made at home to avoid any fuss. You don’t think about how we feel having to sit there watching you eat it, do you? And don’t get us started on your so-called ‘nut allergy’. You probably wouldn’t start asphyxiating if you just pulled yourself together.

You don’t enjoy a bit of festive bigotry

Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without nan reciting the latest Richard Littlejohn column, complete with impressions. It’s as festive as watching The Snowman or a stocking full of presents. But no, when you’re around we’re forbidden from bringing up our simmering prejudices, lest we incur your wrathful sighing. If you don’t like it here, why don’t you forget about Christmas with us and go back to where you came from?

You hate us asking uncomfortable, probing questions

It’s impossible trying to engage you in conversation. We can’t ask whether you’re planning to get married and have children any time soon because apparently that’s taboo, and then you say it’s rude to enquire about your financial situation or comment on your weight. If you had it your weird way we’d just sit quietly enjoying a film and eating nice chocolates. Wouldn’t you rather have an awkward conversation about women’s fertility declining until they become ‘barren’?

You don’t love our interminable, highly-competitive board game sessions

You’re such a killjoy snowflake that incredibly heated afternoons spent hunched over the Monopoly board fill you with dread. Who cares if we all gang up on you and force you to do forfeits you never agreed to if you lose? It’s just a bit of fun. And if you show the slightest sign of not enjoying it we’ll later tell everyone you single-handedly ruined Christmas, you unreasonable, awful guest.

Christmas carols, ranked by how many lines you know before tailing off

WE love them and know them, or at least a few lines before going blank. Here are Christmas carols rated by how many lines you can sing, from least to most:

In The Bleak Midwinter – 0.5 lines

The first four words are the title, after which you’re f**ked. ‘Snow lay all around’? ‘Jesus was a child’? ‘Stars shone from the sky’? You’ve heard it a thousand times and always zoned straight out of this forbidding dirge.

I Saw Three Ships (Come Sailing In) – 1 line

The title’s clear and it’s one of those with a nice merry tune, but after that? Is it ‘On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day’ or is that just muscle memory from all the times you’ve cheerfully improvised? What do these ships have to do with anything, anyway? They’re never mentioned in any other aspect of Christmas, whether Biblical or Santa.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen – 2 lines

Again, once you’ve sung ‘on Christmas Day’ it seems impossible to stop. The rest of the verse can be filled by repeating that until a final ‘On Christmas Day in the morning!’ so why bother learning more?

The Holly And The Ivy – 2.5 lines

You thread your way through the surprisingly intricate melody, impressed that your memory’s leading you there so surefootedly, then hit ‘the rising of the sun’ and you’re in the void of the unknown, lost in the forest, blundering. Stop here. Nobody will judge you.

Ding Dong Merrily On High – 3 lines

Though technically two of them – the first and third – are the same line, and the title. Nonetheless, that’s a good chunk of the song you’re into before you, and all the other once-a-year churchgoers, fall silent and look round at each other mouthing ‘You too?’

O Come All Ye Faithful – 4 lines

We’re going all the way to Bethlehem on this one, before taking two lines off to gather breath for the good bit. You know? The good bit, where you begin quietly then belt it right out making the stained glass rattle? And pleasing God, presumably. Enjoy it, big man.

Silent Night – whole verse

Drop the tempo, drop the word count and now a whole verse is possible. Such an achievement that it feels like the whole song is in your grasp. It isn’t. There are another two verses about shepherds and radiant beams you’ve never deigned to notice.

Away In A Manger – 3 verses

Four-word lines and four-line verses and bang, you’re right up to Jesus not making any crying because your brain keeps coming up with words accidentally memorised during your infant school nativity and never forgotten. It’s a Christmas miracle! Shit tune though.

Next story ›