Christmas Songs and the Cynic.

‘I don’t make merry myself at Christmas,’ said one Ebenezer Scrooge of Curmudgeon Court, Old London Town. Neither do I. But unlike that most famous of all literary misanthropes, I have no objection to other people making merry and keeping the season in whatever way they wish as long as they don’t disturb me. Thankfully, they generally don’t.

What does disturb me, however, is the shopping experience. Most shops at this time of year have the same old Christmas songs playing over and over again, and most of the same old Christmas songs take as their theme either the Nativity story or the wonder of snow.

Well now, the Nativity story not only encourages the endless regurgitation of shamefully saccharin-encrusted lyrics, it’s also almost certainly a fraudulent fabrication concocted to fool the feeble minded (songs like Mary’s Boy Child and Silent Night kindle in my rationalist breast such a rage as can only be ameliorated by hurried egress from the offending retail establishment and the writing of blog posts like this one.) And as for snow being wonderful, not to me it isn’t. I hate the bloody stuff even more than I hate Mary’s Boy Child.

There is, however, one Christmas song which I can tolerate: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. That’s probably because it makes no mention of snow or babies in mangers, and was used to superbly ironic effect in the splendid anti war movie The Victors. None of the shops I’ve been into this year was playing it, and The Victors is far too depressing to watch a second time. Soon be next year.