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Secret Curmudgeon: Christmas is losing its meaning
I was walking past a Kingston toy store the other day when I came across a nativity scene in the shop window – you know, the usual Bethlehem posse.
And then, later that same day, I saw a sign outside a church advertising a carol concert. I was shocked. I felt physically sick.
What’s happened to the Christmas we used to know? It seems it’s no longer about tinsel, stuffing our faces with turkey and getting presents.
No, for some reason it’s all about the birth of Jesus.
It’s no longer about mixing up an eggnog to the correct proportions of egg and nog.
Or lights switch-ons from Z-list celebs such as “that bloke who used to be on Are You Being Served back in 1978”.
Or bad shopping centre Santas with cotton wool beards.
Or mildly racist conversations with your gran over Christmas dinner (“These Bulgarian immigrants – where are they all coming from?” “Err, Bulgaria nan.”)
Or pigs in blankets and bad cracker jokes.
Or stacks of presents you didn’t really want (“Err, listen, I appreciate the five gold rings OK, but please don’t be offended if I return those 10 leaping lords. And the 12 drummers are giving me a bloody headache. Why couldn’t you have got me a Sopranos DVD like I asked?”)
Or the Snowman cartoon.
Or Andre Preview “playing all the wrong notes”.
Or Slade, the Pogues and Roy Wood.
Or Only Fools and Horses repeats with “that bit where Del Boy falls through the bar”.
No, it’s all about the baby Jesus nowadays. The whole meaning has been lost.
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