Tis the season…for not being able to escape Christmas music. Blasting out of every shop, radio, and now even in my office, there is no escape. I’m feeling a little bah-humbug today (what do you want? It’s Monday) so why not take a look at my most hated Christmas songs? I’d suggest a shot every time you heard one of these in the run up to the big day, but you’d probably end up in intensive care:
Let’s get something straight. Christmas is not sexy. Christmas is about eating and drinking so much that you put on at least a stone, wearing awful but cosy jumpers and flinging tiny houses at one another when the latest round of Monopoly goes sour. So whichever Breathy Bint decides to get sex-kittened up and purr Santa Baby at us goes immediately on my shitlist.
Mary’s Boy Child
I mostly hate this song due to a painful childhood memory – being forced to sing it, with my primary school classmates, at a bunch of confused looking elderly folk from the Home close to our school. Now whenever I hear it I just think of all the lonely oldies who have no family to visit them. Depressing much?
Walking in the Air
Everyone’s supposed to love this, probably as it comes from The Snowman. I don’t (and I don’t love The Snowman that much either). Instead, I’d like to find the choirboy that squawked this and punch him in the Adam’s Apple. Try singing now, ya spod!
A Spaceman Came Travelling
I hate Chris De Burgh’s Lady In Red. I hate his eyebrows. And I hate that it apparently went ‘lalalala’ in this bloody awful Christmas song.
Do You Hear What I Hear
Is it a cloying and sickly song that pretends Kings hearing news from shepherd boys about newborn babies want to spread peace and goodwill instead of murdering all the first-born babies in the land? Then yes, you hear what I hear.
There’s always one, isn’t there? You’re all full of the Christmas spirit (or lager) but every time you head to the bar for a re-fill you get clobbered by a depressed and bitter bloke who spends the evening whining about the dumping he’s just received. Wham’s inexplicably popular Last Xmas encapsulates said whininess and, just like our depressed bar-hugger, is just as impossible to avoid.
I’m not a fan of hymns. Especially po-faced ones that carollers murder every time they try to reach the high notes.
When A Child Is Born
“All across the land dawns a brand new morn’, this comes to pass when a child is born.”
This person has clearly never given birth. Judging from the stories of my mom-friends, when a child is born you’re too busy trying not to shit yourself and screaming for more gas and air to notice any dawns.
Mistletoe & Wine
The nan’s favourite, and my most-hated, nothing is guaranteed to get me in a temper quicker than a quick burst of Cliff.
Here’s some rollerskates Cliff, now piss off , and take your bloody mistletoe with you.
Indulge your inner Scrooge, and let me know what else you think should have made the list...