Christmas is wilting under a blizzard of snowf lakes

Advent has barely begun and already it’s shaping up to be quite the white Christmas (assuming one can still use the term ‘white Christmas’ without incurring the wrath of the equality police).

I’ve never seen such a blizzard of seasonal snowflakery. What began as a light sprinkling has snowballed into a veritable avalanche of neuroticism. We now have ‘winter trees’ instead of Christmas trees, nativity plays without the nativity and, if emma thompson has her way, present-giving without any actual presents.

And these bone-chilling snowflakes are not just falling on the festivities. this week we learned the Mr Men — those innocent and joyfully quaint characters — are sexist. According to 24-year-old Shelby Judge — a student of ‘feminist issues’ — Mr Clever is guilty of ‘mansplaining’ the Forth Bridge to Little Miss Curious. this apparently sends a message that, ‘girls, you need to be stupid and men, it’s your job to explain things’.

Or it could be a ‘joke’.

On A similar theme, the Star Wars actress daisy Ridley, who two years ago said she grew up as a ‘tomboy’, has now decided that’s sexist, too, opining: ‘Why has there got to be a boy in it?’

Is there anything now that doesn’t cause offence to someone? no wonder david Walliams has admitted some of the Little Britain characters he created 20 years ago would now be ‘taboo’.

the latest casualty of this new puritanism is the humble office Christmas party. Once the source of enough salacious gossip to last well beyond any new Year resolution it, too, has become mired in the ever-growing snowdrift of political correctness.

First against the wall is humble mistletoe: to be exact, smooching beneath it, which is no longer considered ‘appropriate’ in this post #Metoo age. Indeed, 86 per cent of office workers take the view that the traditionally raucous Christmas office party now holds no place in the modern world.

Many firms are having Christmas lunches instead, in the hope of avoiding the kind of high jinks most of us would simply call ‘fun’.

Of course, the #Metoo movement and its many ramifications have ushered in long-overdue improvements in the workplace.

But while it’s undoubtedly a good thing to safeguard the vulnerable from the unwanted attentions of the powerful, it’s another to render the landscape of human interaction so barren people lose the ability to connect altogether.

As a society we can’t protect ourselves from harm by banning everything. Life is full of risks; the secret is to manage them.

that’s the joy of the office Christmas party. not only does it offer an opportunity to get drunk at your employer’s expense, it can also teach you all you need to know about the people you work with.

It’s the one night of the year where you should be able to step out of your comfort zone, to push the boundaries without bringing the walls down.

So kiss under the mistletoe, tell your boss what you really feel about them, scoff all the sausage rolls — and to hell with the snowflakes. Because, as I know from experience, it can be good for the soul occasionally to make a fool of yourself. to laugh and be laughed at. And, yes, you might be taking a risk. But so what? eat, drink and photocopy your bottom. For tomorrow . . . well, who knows.