KimElliott.net

Many years ago, I spent Christmas day with a good friend and her family. The weirdest part of the day was after the Christmas meal, when she spooned her way through an entire pint of gravy.

You grow up with someone and eventually you’ll see them in their pyjamas, clean up their drunken sick and help them fake their A levels certificate for a new job.* You never expect to watch them guzzle down a family sized portion of Bisto.** Even her ex-military father was shocked.

That memory returned over the holidays when I realised the tradition theme of Christmas 2007 had been replaced with a national gorge yourself contest.

I’ve never been into Christmas, and growing up working class I know all about excess during festive periods. As a child, many of my friends had Megadrives at Christmas but no dinner in January.*** The pointless gluttony of Christmas 2007 seemed to push me over the edge.

Perhaps it was the sight of a hobo being arrested under the lush Carnaby Street Christmas lights while people queued up outside Liberty, or slightly less pretentious, the piles of leftover food and sheets of wrapping paper, in every kitchen bin in the country.

Then there was the joy of the January sales, a national race to buy a pile of excrement because it’s got 20% off the pricetag. The whole thing was like watching a fat person eat a cake, or a friend unnecessarily down a pint of gravy.

* I didn’t actually do this, but if she’d have asked, I am sure I’d have had a shot at it.

** It might not have been Bisto, but another brand of instant meat-juice flavoured powder.

*** Mum, if you’re reading this, I’m not suggesting this was our family. We never had a Megadrive.