CHRISTMAS approaches like a male orgasm – for all the fuss, essentially always the same and closely followed by depression.
Until then it’s a time for joy, togetherness, and the buying of lacy bras. But how will you find time for physical love when crammed in a house full of family members?
Seize the moment
Use each and every distraction to your advantage: anything from The Snowman being on to a grandmother falling down the stairs. When a familiar sibling row begins about who’s more like Mum or Dad tries to hurry dinner along by turning the oven up 50 degrees, grab your wife and head upstairs for a quick stocking-filler.
Get everyone pissed
Christmas Day is always an alcohol-induced blackout, but push harder. A well-placed bottle of Amaretto should start the boozing at 11am, a tactless question about his ex-wife will have Uncle David draining the stouts, and reigniting old family rows will have everyone blotto by 2pm. On the 23rd. Turn up Shreck the Halls and slip off for a shag in the shed.
Clear the decks
Boxing Day? Tempt everyone out of the house. Tell Dad petrol was 6p cheaper at a garage 45 miles away, tell your brother-in-law there’s a gathering of like-minded miserable bastards at the local pub, and tell your sister the bathroom extractor fan whisks away the smoke of a crafty fag in seconds. Fetch the spray cream from the overflow fridge, you’ve got the place to yourselves!
Lose your shit
It’s family at Christmas: a tantrum is expected. Accuse your brother of cheating at Pictionary and/or your parents of loving him more and stomp off upstairs. While everyone discusses how you’ve always been a hysterical bitch, your boyfriend can pop up to ‘check you’re okay’ and slip a pig into your blanket while he’s about it.
Do the rounds
There are neighbours to regift an out-of-date panettone, old school friends begging for a catch-up, and of course your girlfriend would love to see the park where you used to drink as a teenager. So you must pop out for an hour or two, an hour blissfully spent exchanging oral while parked behind the church hall. Nobody will think to look there.
Don’t
The stress of being trapped in a tinsel prison while being force-fed buffet is not conducive to desire. There’s nothing like a game of Boggle to leave your fanny as dry as yesterday’s turkey and his cock as ready to go as a grandparent asleep in front of a Bond film. Forget it. Get your kicks from the Gregg’s Christmas advert with Nigella instead.
