I have seen the best teeth of my generation broken upon the crust of a neighbour’s mince pie.
I have seen men struggling through aisles laden with tinsel, buying chocolates uglier than sphincters and enduring carols.
I have seen ecstatic visions of Noddy Holder and of King Wenceslas naked upon a reindeer.
For it is Christmas.
Therefore I rejoice.
I rejoice in the truths that will emerge in shallow Yuletide arguments.
I rejoice in television specials, for mindlessness opens gates into nirvana.
I rejoice in gifts of underwear.
I rejoice in the mother cooking resentfully, and in the drunken aunt.
And in the farting vegan who refuses turkey.
In these I rejoice.