Top Ten Christmas Songs

Christmas is approaching and radio DJ’s will push aside their terrible playlists in favour of the same old Christmas songs that we hear at this time every year. Supermarkets and shopping malls will turn up the volume loud and play the same songs. Every pub will crank up the volume of their jukebox and play endless streams of Christmas dirges.

And worst of all, I will have to endure these songs at every Christmas party I go to, starting tonight.

I may sound like Scrooge in his deepest humbug moment but the truth is that most Christmas songs are dreadful.

However, I am not Scrooge really and there are a few of these seasonal ditties that I actually like. So here, for the benefit of readers who love their Christmas songs, are my top ten seasonal offerings.

10. The Pretenders – 2000 Miles

A Christmas song doesn’t have to be a happy clappy affair and that’s the main reason I like this song. It combines the seasonal feel with a hint of melancholy. Also, I like Chrissie Hynde’s voice.

9. Jonah Lewie – Stop the Cavalry

Continuing the theme of melancholy, Jonah Lewie’s song didn’t go down well in Walsall in 1980 with a guy I knew who was in the army. The line “Wish I was at home for Christmas” brought it home to his fellow soldiers who were away for Christmas. That said, I’ve added this to the list because it was played in every pub I went into in December 1980. I had just turned 18 and this was the first time I had the taste of true party atmospheres in the run up to Christmas. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason.

8. Queen – Thank God It’s Christmas

I’ve always loved Queen and when they finally released a Christmas song, I knew it would be a bit special, with the elements that make their songs memorable with a hint of the theatrical that the band loved to inject into their songs. Again, there is a hint of melancholy in the tune. I like that.

7. Elton John – Step Into Christmas

Now it’s time for a happier song with no hint of melancholy whatsoever, from the time when Elton was actually good, in the 1970’s, just to prove to you, dear reader, that I don’t just like songs with a dark and sad undertone. This song is a lot of fun.

6. The Darkness – Christmas Time (Don’t Let The Bell’s End)



Talking of fun, let’s take a little bit of cheesiness, add a little naughtiness and a good dose of rock and the result is this daft little song from The Darkness, complete with schoolboy choir, electric guitar and a little innuendo. This is my kind of Christmas song.

5. John Lennon – Happy Xmas (War is Over)

I always get goosebumps when I hear this song, particularly at a time when there is trouble in the world. The message is absolutely clear and sums up exactly what Christmas should be about, people coming together with joy and happiness and not, for once, trying to blow each other to bits.

4. Greg Lake – I Believe In Father Christmas

Apparently this song was written as a protest to what Christmas has become over the years and was not really intended to celebrate Christmas but to point out how marketing has over-commercialised it. I don’t care; this is an epic progressive rock masterpiece and exactly what I would have expected from my favourite musical genre.

3. Wizzard – I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day

Let’s get serious now. Way back in the early 1970’s, when I was a kid who really looked forward to Christmas every year, one of my favourite bands at the time were Roy Wood’s Wizzard. Their music had a distinct 1970’s feel that I still feel nostalgic for.

This song whisks me back in time to December 1973, when I was an innocent 11 year old.

 In my last post I described the inner youth within me and how I loved to unleash him on the world. This song, releases the child in me, stirring that excitement about waiting to tear the Christmas paper off all of my presents and tuck into a beautiful Christmas dinner. Another song has a similar effect …

2. Slade – Merry Christmas Everyone

There is no song that epitomises what Christmas meant to me as child, more than this wonderful song that was released at the same time as the previous one from Wizzard. Noddy Holder, the lead singer of the band, is from my home town of Walsall so it has a special significance for me. And what Christmas would be complete without Noddy screaming:

 “IT’S CHRISSSSSSSTTTTTTMAAAAASSSSSSS!”. 

Actually, I suggested some alternative lyrics to the song a few years ago. You can read them here.

1. The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl – Fairytale of New York

A Christmas song with swear words? Whatever next? When I first heard this song many years ago I thought it was a work of genius and I still think so to this day. I love songs that stir a little emotion, particularly at this time of year, and this one does just that, stripping down the cheese factor to a bare minimum to produce my favourite Christmas song of all time.

And Finally …

I hope you like my choices, dear reader. I will almost certainly post again before Christmas but if I don’t get chance to, I’ll take this opportunity to wish you all a Merry Christmas. If I do get chance to, then you will be lucky enough to get a second “Merry Christmas” in due course.

Lucky you.

Now over to you.

What are your favourite Christmas songs – and why?

The Pros And Cons Of Christmas

Is it just me or are years flying by way too fast?


It seems like only yesterday when I was recovering from Christmas 2011 and, hey presto, here it is again. As a self-confessed grumpy old git, you may imagine that I adopt the role of Ebenezer Scrooge at this time of year and start moaning about humbugs.

That’s not true. Well – sometimes it is to be fair.

I have a love-hate relationship with Christmas; there are elements that I love and embrace, and there are elements that I despise. I’m sure that regular readers will have a guess at which bits of the festive season drive me crazy, given the things I’ve ranted about before on this cyber soapbox.

I thought it would be a nice idea to share with you what I hate and what I love about this time of year.

Without further ado, here are the pros and cons of Christmas.

Cons

(1) Choosing presents – I find it really difficult to decide what to buy everybody. I find my thoughts drifting to what I want, which means that I have to resist buying a heavy metal album for Mrs PM for example. Mrs PM says that by now, after almost 15 years together, I should easily be able to select a suitable gift. And I can – after I have beaten myself up over it for several months. Come January, I will be thinking of what I can buy her for Christmas 2013 – yes it takes that long. And she is only one of the people I have to consider.

(2) Christmas shopping – I hate shopping at the best of times and it this time of year, this abhorrent pastime mutates into a monstrous experience – even if you want to buy something unrelated to the festive period. In Manchester we have a huge shopping mall called the Trafford Centre and in December it is like entering Hell itself. The enormous car parks are so full that arriving and leaving take hours to achieve, having blocked up the motorways and main roads around for hours. Inside the Trafford Centre all shops are absolutely crammed with hapless shoppers, none of whom want to be there. You have to queue for hours to actually buy what you want and queue for more hours to leave the bloody place. And supermarkets are the same. There is so much food to buy that the weekly shop becomes a nightmare. People buy so much food you would think that they have predicted World War 3 and are planning for four years in a bunker to avoid nuclear fallout.

(3) Christmas starts earlier and earlier every year. My birthday is 8th October and I use that as a marker to see whether Christmas adverts have started or not. In the past, the first commercials appeared in late October. More recently the adverts have started much earlier; it was in September this year meaning that we have to spend a quarter of the year suffering bloody Christmas commercials – three bloody months of it.

(4) The Queen’s Christmas Message. I am ambivalent when it comes to Liz. I neither hate her nor love her. To me she is just another celebrity who happens to get a lot of media attention. Why should I be even remotely interested in anything she has got to say? I haven’t. The only thing I have in common with Liz and her family is that we live in England. Apart from that I care not one jot about her thoughts, her wisdom or her opinions. Why this is prime time TV on Christmas Day is beyond me.

(5) Travelling. Since I moved to Manchester in 1984, I have had to spend the Christmas period driving around the Midlands, Yorkshire and the North West of England visiting people who demand my presence. Back in 1984 I thought to myself, one day you will all come to me. It is now 2012 and there is absolutely no chance of that happening, This year I have to drive for three hours on Christmas Day, an hour and a half on Boxing Day and three hours the day after that. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

(6) Bad presents. I wish people would just say – “Here’s £20 – go and buy something you like.” Instead I get slippers, hankies and after shave – repeatedly.

Enough of that “Bah! Humbug!” nonsense. Here are the pros:

Pros

(1) Time off work. I love being off work and at Christmas I usually manage a week or two off work. I love to wake up with the knowledge that I can stay in bed, relax, go for a walk and take it easy for the duration of the Christmas Holiday period.

(2) Christmas Parties and socialising. Christmas parties can be an amazing experience, with either friends, family or work colleagues and usually I end up attending quite a few events. Generally the pubs and restaurants are full of joy and cheer anyway but whether you go to the pub with your mates or end up at a Christmas Party, fun is freely available to make even the most boring Scrooge smile occasionally – even me:

(3) Kids – Kids love Christmas and there is nothing better than seeing the faces of children when they see Father Christmas and open their presents on the big day. Sadly my two are too old now (19 and 16) and no longer have that innocent enthusiasm.

(4) Good presents. Occasionally I have genuinely surprised when receiving gifts. As I said above, these days I love it when people give me gift vouchers or cash so that I have an excuse to hit the sales or go online and splash out on something wonderful for myself.

(5) Christmas Markets. In recent years there has been a trend in Britain where major cities welcome European style markets selling all sorts of Christmas goodies. The annual Christmas Market in Manchester is usually packed but mulled wine is abundant and you can relax in a bar supping your mulled wine or the alcoholic beverage of your choice while watching people enjoying the experience. A great way to spend a few hours in the run up to Christmas.

(6) Food. I love Christmas fare, particularly mince pies. Mrs PM and I eat them by the bucket load and any diets we are considering are shelved for a week or two. Christmas is the time of year when you basically tell your diet to “Bugger off”. I genuinely do not feel bad about gaining a few pounds. Such things can be dealt with in January. This year on Christmas Day I will end up looking like a roly poly old man as I settle down in front of the TV to watch the Dr Who Christmas special. And I won’t care at all.

Well that’s it for now.

I would like to wish everybody a Merry Christmas whether you are a regular reader or a poor unfortunate who has stumbled across this post by accident.

May Father Christmas bring you all the gifts that you want – but please – no more socks and hankies. I have so many now that I could open a shop.

Dear Father Christmas

Dear Father Christmas,

My name is Dave and I am not a child any more (despite what you may have heard). Nevertheless, I hope that you listen to adults as well as children because I have something to say.

I thought it better to write to you rather than finding you in a shopping centre and having to queue up with the kids just to have a little chat. I wouldn’t want to appear to be any weirder than I already am.

Last time I encountered you in a shopping centre, I was a child and you had been on the ale; frankly your behaviour was disgraceful. You stank of alcohol and your speech was slurred. And this was a few days BEFORE Christmas Eve as well. All the children were disappointed. I remember asking myself; if he is this bad before Christmas Eve, what on earth is he going to be like on the big day itself?

I know for a fact that every household in the world leaves you a glass of sherry and a mince pie to help you on your way, which presumably explains why you are so overweight and drive a huge sleigh. Or perhaps you pass the alcohol to your head reindeer, you know the one with the big red beer-drinker’s nose.

I’m sure that you are risking the wrath of the local constabulary, being in charge of a sleigh under the influence of intoxicating substances. And surely, forcing a reindeer to consume liquor is contravening a major RSPCA regulation.

How do you get away with it?

Maybe the police just turn a blind eye to your antics because it’s Christmas Eve. After all, how popular would they be if they arrested Father Christmas for drunk driving and animal cruelty? What bad press would they get if they confiscated all of the Christmas presents for the entire world? Furthermore, what would all of the other nations think of the UK for holding Father Christmas in a cell?

It would appear that you are above the law. Whenever I visit another country, I have to present a passport and then explain to the sadistic and ill-tempered immigration officer why I am visiting his country. You can just fly in can’t you?

I’ll bet you’ve never been searched when entering Australia to see if you have any foodstuffs. I’ll bet you’ve never had a beagle sniffing your rucksack for biscuits. I’ll bet you don’t get the third degree when crossing the US border. No US immigration official demands YOUR fingerprints.

My fingerprints are probably in an FBI database now. Are yours? I seriously doubt it.

I can imagine that you probably pop in and out of Europe like a ghost. I’ll bet the Russians and Chinese are unaware that you are flying into their airspace.

Are you James Bond or Jason Bourne by any chance?

In fact, talking of names, I am wondering whether I am addressing this letter to the right person. Is your name really “Father Christmas” or is “Santa Claus”? I’ve often wondered why some people call you “Santa Claus” – is that you rock star name?

I know that Bonehead – er sorry – Bono of U2 has a huge enough ego to get away with calling himself a ridiculous name, but your so-called philanthropy is legendary. All Bono does is sing and then shout at his audience for not being as great as he is, and all this despite the fact they have paid huge sums of money to see his concerts. You simply turn up at every house in the world and give away presents to everybody.

Except you don’t do you?

As a child I used to think you were the best man on the planet. You turned up, once a year, and gave me lots of gifts for absolutely nothing. All that you asked in return was that I was a good boy.

I still recall that dark December day as a five year old when my nan told me off for being cheeky to my mum. You see, Santa (or whatever you real name is), I have always been mischievous, rude and defiant. As a child I always wondered why grown-ups shouted at me. I’m not deaf you know.

But then that fateful day came when my nan said:

“If you don’t button your lip, Father Christmas won’t bring you any presents”.

I laughed and said “Yes he will. He’s a kind old man and he comes to visit me every year with lots of presents.”

“He doesn’t give presents to NAUGHTY children,” she countered with a stern look on her face.

I was five years old and I crumbled.

“I didn’t mean to be naughty,” I cried. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me,” she said.

“I’m sorry mummy,” I cried.

“Don’t apologise to me,” said my mum. “Apologise to Father Christmas.”

“He’s not here,” I said.

“He’s up the chimney,” said my nan.

Like a complete lemon, I sat in front of the gasfire and cried “I’m sorry Father Christmas,” as tears ran down my little cherubic cheeks. “Please bring me some presents.”

I took every opportunity to apologise to Father Christmas right up until Christmas Eve. My dad saw me shouting up the chimney and thought I’d gone mad.

“Father Christmas, I’ve been a good boy today. I’ve tidied up for mummy and I’ve behaved myself for daddy.”

“What’s going on?” whispered my dad to my mum.

“Shush,” she replied. “He’s been as good as gold since we threatened him with no presents from Father Christmas”.

I had been had. I was a victim of a cruel joke. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. I was a complete idiot. I didn’t know any better.

And it was all your fault, Santa Claus (or whatever your name is).

Because of you, my mother lied to me.

Because of you my father lied to me. Here’s another lie he told me:

“How can Father Christmas get all around the world in one night?” I asked once.

“He has a very fast car,” my dad lied.

“And how does he get to America then?”

“He also has a very fast aircraft.”

“And how does he get down the chimney when there’s a gas fire?”

“Magic!!”

Now I’m older I realise that you don’t make all the presents yourself, or even buy them; you are just a delivery boy. I have to buy the bloody presents for my kids and somehow you get the bloody credit.

All you are is a glorified postman.

And what’s worse – you are a burglar as well. You come round to my house every single Christmas Eve and break in; I don’t leave you a key or leave any windows open. I haven’t exactly double checked whether anything gets stolen but I do know this: you leave presents and my bank balance collapses like a house of cards.

When you visit, I get robbed. Last year we could have blamed it on those bankers but I bet you were in cahoots with them.

And you are lazy too. After your one night’s work, you bugger off back to the North Pole or wherever it is you drag your drunken bulk and then you go to bed and sleep until December next year. That must be some bloody hangover!

How on earth do you get away with that? Haven’t the inland revenue caught up with you yet?

How in blue blazes do you manage it?

As you can see from the tone of my letter, I have issues. Let me summarise:

You are a lying, drunken bandit, masquerading as a philanthropist when in reality you are just a glorified thieving delivery boy. You are a lazy fat bugger who works just one night a year, apart from the odd day when, drunk on beer and wine, you allow little kids to sit on your lap and intoxicate them with your fetid breath.

You cause parents to lie to children, you humiliate those children and then you rob the parents. You eat and drink so much in your one night of drunken debauchery that it is a miracle you can crowbar your blubbery body through any door in world, let alone squeeze your fat flabby beer-filled belly down a chimney.

You use aliases to keep one step ahead of the police; you drive while intoxicated and you break the immigration laws of every single country on the planet.

And you are cruel to animals.

I’ve found you out. I really should report you.

However, I still recall my dear old nan. She never ever lied to me. This year I have been a good Plastic Mancunian and I have not been naughty at all.

Can I have a Ferrari for Christmas?

Yours

The Plastic Mancunian.