What? Xmas is cancelled?
OCTOBER – the wet and windy month of drowned dogs – is not yet with us, but already a drizzle of festive press releases glisten in my email account. The tinsel propaganda has begun very early.
Already this paper and its online site has informed readers of the first shops selling Christmas trees, the Yuletide events in our region and the seasonal fare on offer in supermarkets.
Warnings about buying puppies at Christmas and articles on what lags will be tucking into in Her Majesty’s prisons on December 25 will soon be pinged my way.
It is a thoroughly depressing state of affairs and I fear that infernal Christmas single by Slade will be heard in the first days of November.
I have just received a PR misletoe missive entitled, “Food to freeze ahead of Christmas supply chain concerns.”
It informs me parsnips can be placed on ice for a very long time: “This honey covered Christmas staple will stay good to eat for around nine months. You can freeze them in small cubes, or chunks. Blanching parsnips before freezing them will lock in their flavour and texture.”
It urges me to deep freeze my Brussels sprouts, which misses the point of the much maligned vegetable. The general public only buy them on Christmas Eve.
Very few folk desire to snack on sprouts during summer. They are not a barbecue staple.
The email seems to avoid the bleedin’ obvious.
If all the ingredients that comprise Christmas dinner can remain in the bowels of a fridge for months, why not cook the banquet in April, plate it up and bung it in the freezer until December 24?
Alarmingly, a man known as the Chicken King has warned readers Christmas may be cancelled through a CO2 shortage. Poultry farmers must be fuming over the lack of festive fumes.
Ranjit Singh Boparan, owner of Bernard Matthews and 2 Sisters Food Group, has slammed the decision by two of Britain’s biggest CO2 producers to halt production.
The business mogul said: “The supply of Bernard Matthews turkeys this Christmas was already compromised as I need to find 1,000 extra workers to process supplies.
“Now with no CO2 supply, Christmas will be cancelled.”
That’s bad news for consumers, but a relief for chickens and turkeys. I knew they suffered the ignominy of being stuffed. I had no idea they were gassed, too.
Perhaps CO2 canisters will become the “must have” Christmas present of 2021.
A dark cloud gathered over my work station as I devoured our guide to Birmingham’s grottos. It was not so much the content, more the fact the article was placed online on September 12.
“You can complete a Christmas quest, making your way through 10 magical rooms in Magic Alley before meeting Santa Claus,” the piece reveals.
“On the way, you’ll meet characters and magical creatures, then all children receive a present. At the end you can even have a ‘snowball fight’ in the Enchanted Forest”.
The vast majority of youngsters visiting those grottos, will, I’m sure, have seen through the Father Christmas fable. They simply stay schtum for fear failure to go along with the preposterous chain of events will negatively impact on the haul of presents received.
And they’re quite right to do so.
Admit Father Christmas doesn’t exist and you start getting jumpers.
The real question is, how – and when – parents reveal the truth.
I was three. We were poor. Dad ran excitedly into the living room thrusting a sheaf of creased paper aloft. “It’s from the North Pole,” he grinned.
We gathered round him, giggling nervously.
He scrutinised the letter, then read allowed: “Dear children, I’m afraid Santa has been involved in a horror sleigh accident. He did not pull through, so, obviously, won’t be visiting you. Sorry.
“PS: Rudolph died, also.” Writing in the Lancet, leading psychologist Christopher Boyle warned of the perils attached to the Christmas “fib”.
Professor Boyle, of the University of Exeter, said: “The morality of making children believe in such myths has to be questioned.
“All children will eventually find out they’ve been consistently lied to for years, and this might make them wonder what other lies they’ve been told.
“Whether it’s right to make children believe in Father Christmas is an interesting question, and it’s also interesting to ask whether lying in this way will affect children in ways that have not been considered.”
Poppycock. I’ve yet to meet an addict who’s mumbled: “Then I found out Mum and Dad had lied about Father Christmas and just hit the crack.”
Today, children are savvy enough to see through North Pole propaganda at a very early age.
“Have you written your letter to Santa?” I asked a seven-year-old nephew last year.
“There’s no such thing,” he lisped. “You don’t believe in Santa?” I gasped, feigning surprise.
“I don’t believe in letters.”