All I Want For Christmas Is Booze

A church in Dronfield

In the words of the girl that widowed Liam Neeson’s blonde-haired son was in love with, ‘I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need’ and what I need is a strong drink. It’s the most wonderful time of year, huzzah, tomorrow will mark the opening of the first door on my Simpsons advent calender, woop, for it will be December.

Jolly old December.

December, the month of festive Number 1’s, the month of wishing good will to all men (despite harboring nothing but contempt for most of them from January to November), the month where you’ll remember how much you hate that Band Aid song and how much you love Port. Oh yeah, mulled wine too, and Brandy. Sherry? Yes please. Bollocks, I might as well drink 12 bottles of Babycham, it’s not like you’re going to. Have we got any more Carling in the fridge? No? Tonic water? No? Screw it, I’ll drink neat Gin and watch Home Alone 2. Why does nobody love me?

But, Christmas isn’t ALL about having a massive meltdown, drinking yourself into a stupor, feeling isolated and lonely then drunk-dialing your ex to ask why they don’t love you anymore. It’s also about putting on weight until you feel like the whale from the film Free Willy (who’s name escapes me), spending money on people you don’t really want to spend money on, being either too warm or too cool and the most important one of all: avoiding meals with extended family that are sure to be dry, depressing and dull.

It’s the most wonderful time of year, apparently.

Dronfield is an interesting place in December, all the students are back from university, everyone will wear bad scarfs and the usual high level of social one-upmanship reaches dangerous levels when gossip-hungry housewives meet near the sauces at the back of Sainsburys. You will see people in pubs you haven’t seen for years in pubs, they will ask you how you are, you will ask them how they are and before you know it someone who you now remember you don’t like – otherwise you would regularly speak to – is telling you about their messy breakup and how they just need some time to be alone right, but, would you like to go for a drink with them next week to listen more about their failed relationship? Drop me out.

Dronfield Town Council need a shake-up.

My main problem with Dronfield around the festive period is the ghastly poor-man decorations the council mount to the lamp-posts ever year on Dronfield Bottom outside Murrays.  To outsiders passing by Chesterfield Road, we must look like the biggest bunch of amateurs this side of Unstone. If you feel as needlessly serious about these bad banter decorations (or bad-erations, if that works) then please contact Dronfield Town Council to express your utter odium for their misguided merrymaking, here: http://www.dronfield.gov.uk/contact-us.html

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