Grousing over the Turkey is a good game

A happy family having Christmas dinner together.
A happy family having Christmas dinner together.

Well here’s hoping you all have a very merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

I’m going to tuck into the turkey and sprouts with my nearest and dearest and enjoy a contented haze of seasonal enjoyment courtesy of a few sherries.

It is the season to be jolly and wish goodwill to all mankind.

But for seasoned moaners among my subscribers I know it wouldn’t be half as enjoyable if you couldn’t enjoy a good complain

So if you are inclined to be a bit miserable let me suggest a few pointers.

If a spot of grumbling floats your boat, at Christmas it is as easy as falling off a Yule log.

Perhaps my £5 Christmas jumper will not have turned out to be of premium quality.

And no doubt when I venture out into my car I’ll encounter the usual countless nerks walking across the road in front of me talking into their brand new smart phones completely oblivious to my existence.

These devices apparently produce an electronic force field which protects the owner from ingress from oncoming vehicles. In the dark.

Perhaps if I traipse off to the pub for a few crafty sharpeners I shall encounter the people you only ever see at Christmas.

The one day-a-year drinkers who aren’t used to their ale and clog up the bar shouting in your ear instead of sitting at a table.

Or the complete strangers who buttonhole you and off-load their woes onto your shoulders, or involve you with a political discussion about what is wrong with the world when you are trying to chat somebody up.

If your family or complete strangers haven’t annoyed you why not try that old moaners standby - Christmas telly.

The best programmes are the repeats and I bet the remake of Open All Hours won’t be a patch on the original.

And why do the adverts obsess with Christmas for two months beforehand and yet when it is actually Christmas there isn’t a cartoon bear or a decorated tree to be seen.

As you dip your shrivelled up pigs in blankets in the last of the gravy before breaking out the Quality Streets, the money making machine has already shifted its focus towards holidays in the sun and pseudo sales of half price settees.

If these suggestions don’t inspire misery, you could always try the old stand-by clichés like Christmas is just meant for the bairns and not as good as it was when you got an orange in your sock. Have a good ’un.