Santa's coming... to steal your biscuits

Yesterday everyone was reminding everyone else that there was exactly a month until Christmas. And even though you’d been told five times already in the last two hours, when your partner/ friend/ parent/ sibling/ co-worker/ neighbour/ annoying-person-who-thinks-they’re-you’re-friend-but-whom-you-really-can’t-stand said to you, “DID YOU KNOW... There’s exactly a month until Christmas!” I bet you went, “Ohhhhh yeah. God how time flies. And I haven’t bought ANYTHING yet.”

So you’re fed up of being reminded. I get it. And every time someone does remind you, you panic that there’s not enough time and that you can’t afford all the presents and food and needlessly sparkly outfit for the office party. But y’know what? I’m gonna be comforting here, and remind you of something else today: in exactly one month, Christmas will be over.

Yay.

I’m not a total scrooge, but let’s face it: a fat man slides down your chimney while you’re all sleeping just to come and pinch your biscuits, and we’re supposed to get excited? Because that will be the case this year, young boys and girls. The Con-Dem government has indirectly condemned Christmas by sucking money out of the economy in an attempt to, er... put money into the economy (yeah, I don’t get it either), and as a result Father Christmas can’t afford your ridiculously-priced Buzz Lightyear (which came out about 12 years ago anyway), your Barbie doll that looks exactly like the Barbie doll you got last year, and the bicycle it’s too cold to ride, and which you’ll be too big for by the time the weather improves. Father Christmas is not leaving presents this year; he is coming to steal your biscuits and maybe a couple of quid out of your parents’ swear jars, and before he leaves he’ll probably stick your hand in a glass of water so that you wet the bed and your Christmas is completely effed.

But in a month it’ll all be over. All that money, all that exhausting shopping, all those long journeys taking your children to go and see 19-year-old, uno-browed, bored Santa; all that present-wrapping, all that cooking, all those photocopies of your naked bum from the annual office party... All for one day. And in a month, it’ll all be over.

Wait. This was supposed to be a comforting blog post. Whoops.