Xmas Shopping - How Do I Hate Thee...

Let me count the ways...

I hate the sheer unremitting tackiness of the street decorations and window displays. Tatty tinsel, gurning Santas, irregularly twinkling lights and nasally irradiated reindeer do not spell taste and refinement. They do not even spell cheerily ramshackle seasonal goodwill. They spell cynical and unimaginative consumerism packaged to appeal to the spoilt brat lurking in all of us. And don't get me started on the "Best Xmas Album Ever" which tinnily assails ones eardrums regardless of which emporium you are reluctantly venturing into.

I hate the cod bonhomie that people feel obliged to exhibit. The vacant grins do not alter the fact that these are individuals who will quite happily knee you in the groin/elbow you in the face/shoot you from point blank range with a Kalashnikov (available from Argos for 39.99, bullets not included) if you are unfortunate enough to be standing between them and the overpriced piece of tat which is the object of their desire.

I hate shop assistants who will insist on engaging one with promotional platitudes when it is blindingly obvious to all concerned that you are, in fact, a wild-eyed misanthropist with zero tolerance for such flummery. I hate their grating persistence almost as much as the Scroogish tendencies of the retail industry, which drives them to these irritating lengths in the first place.

I hate people who lurch to an abrupt halt directly in front of you. This always occurs when one is weighed down with a plethora of increasingly desperate purchases and in the midst of a seething throng of shoppers who could turn nasty at any moment. An unseemly incident involving battered baubles, unexpectedly malodorous bathing products, robust expletives and crying toddlers will inevitably ensue. (Although I will admit to a sneaking sympathy for the elderly lady who slumped despairingly over her walking frame as I was scanning the shelves for non-cutsey cards and wailed at the world in general : "Why can't it be Easter? You can't go wrong with a Creme Egg.").

I hate any publicly displayed sentence which incorporates the words "cool yule." It's not big, it's not clever, and it certainly isn't remotely amusing. Go away and try harder.

I hate choosing appropriate presents for people. My imagination always fails me and I fall back on the tried and tested confectionary/toiletries/book/cd combo which I invariably receive myself and regard with absurdly unfair disdain. Why I persist in wasting hours traipsing the streets in the vague hope of spotting something witty or original with which to delight my friends is a mystery. It would be better all round if I simply nipped into Borders, Lush and Thorntons and saved myself the frayed nerves and sullen hopelessness which usually besets Xmas shopping trips.


Every year I promise myself that I will shop early, maintain a positive frame of mind and actually enjoy the whole festive experience. Who am I kidding? Not even myself any more...