Poor Mojo's Two Minute Hate

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 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 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.

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...