Why I Hate Christmas.

If I tell people I hate Christmas they call me a scrooge and accuse me of being miserable and then they accuse me of winding them up. After several attempts to convince them I’m serious they slink off in a sulk making a mental note never to speak to me again. But I don’t care. I am unrepentant. I am willing to get rid of the irritating ‘cheerful at Christmas’ dimwit for rest of the year as well, just so long as I don’t have to bounce, whoop, drink enormous amounts of alcohol or pretend to smile. It hurts my face. But why do I hate Christmas? For me the reasons are obvious. Because I had terrible Christmases from the…