As the most wonderful time of the year creeps back into the ether one bargain HD TV singing snowman at a time, so do those who love to hate it - and with them comes Christmas-shaming. But scrooge you, Christmas haters, I’m tired of hearing it. Here are just a few people I'll be avoiding as the tinsel take over begins:
The Very Basic, Basic Hater
They’re terrified being called ‘basic’ despite having all the criteria and only wear Christmas jumpers ‘ironically’. They're reading this column saying 'it's still NOVEMBER' as though no one else has noticed and simulataneously lighting a Jo Malone 'pine' scented candle. At the Christmas party you'll find them rolling their eyes at Mariah before slinking off to binge on M&S mince pies filled with spice and self-hatred.
The Conspiracy Theorist
Conspiracy Theorist Hater has figured it out before anyone else. Listen to them, shallow, brainwashed beings preocuppied with ‘fun’ and ‘happiness’ and the true meaning of Christmas shall be revealed: ‘it’s a marketing scam,’ ‘“they” want to bankrupt you so you take out a loan’, ‘didn’t you know that Coca Cola created red Santa?’
In February, they’ll gleefully tell you that Hallmark started Valentine’s Day to exploit you of yet more hard earned cash because this hater isn’t just for Christmas.
The Hater Hater
Also hates their own birthday, holidays, weekends and puppies. This friend is genuinely devoid of any seasonal joy - a modern day Scrooge in the making - and probably someone who says they ‘hate forced fun’. They raise their voice to tell you they’re not really ‘a Christmas person’ because it’s really hard to hear them when they’re so far above you.
The Hipster Hater
They disliked Christmas first. Hipster celebrations take place on the Saturday before Christmas (no Dec 25, no fixed dates, losers) where they eat a vegan feast and listen to rare Swedish Christmas tracks on vinyl. Christmas snaps are great, but take them with a pinhole camera and don’t ever smile (so mainstream).
The Existential Hater
This friend would love to love Christmas - but the reality is that the season of goodwill throws them into spiral of existential self-loathing. They’ve looked forward to December 25 with ardent enthusiasm - but when the day finally arrives the sorry combination of another year coming to a close and being back at home means that by 3pm they’re sobbing in their childhood bedroom over ten-year-old pictures of when they ‘had something to look forward to’, ‘ambition’ and ‘good hair’.
Did I miss any?