Christmas jumpers are for w*nkers.
Not my words, but many of you are probably nodding and there’s no shortage of blog posts saying exactly the same thing.
Christmas jumpers are the worst.
They’re the equivalent of novelty socks or comedy ties, signs that say ‘you don’t have to be crazy to work here but it helps’ – the mark of the utter tosspot.
The fury they generate is something to behold.
And that’s what’s so great about them.
Christmas jumpers drive apparently well-adjusted people into a frothing rage, railing against what they describe as middle class Kings of Leon fans with Ikea furniture who don Christmas jumpers to show their lives aren’t really meaningless at all.
According to the Gary Bainbridge, writing in the Mirror, Christmas jumpers are for people who like Richard Curtis films, who watch Elf, ‘self-appointed fun enforcers’ who have the money to buy ‘a stupid ironic jumper you can only wear once’.
Guardian commenters say they’re for ‘office wankers’, ‘twats’ and people who like John Lewis adverts.
And I say to you: screw those guys.
If my wearing a Christmas jumper featuring a T-rex in a Santa hat firing laser beams out of its eyes upsets the kind of people who think they can look down on others because of a single garment, I’ll buy two and wear one of them as a pair of trousers with two shiny baubles hanging out of the neck hole.
If a sequinned pun underneath a Pug saying ‘gansta wrap’ irks the kind of people who write angry blog posts about people’s jumpers, I’ll get something even more horrific, such as a barely literate ‘keep calm’ design saying ‘keep calm and keep your ho ho ho on’, ideally with two Christmas puddings positioned to look like tits.
Or a knitted Jesus in a party hat with ‘birthday boy’ in robin red across his chest, or maybe one with a fireplace with a smartphone pocket so you can have a real crackling fire in the middle of your body.
Are Christmas jumpers awful? Of course they are. That’s the whole point.
They’re the crap joke in the Christmas cracker, the Slade song on the stereo, the cackling humour of the Gremlins, the wearable equivalent of the sprouts only one of us will even think about eating, the embodiment of the ill-advised game of Twister after too much sherry.
The things that upset the Christmas jumper critics are the very things that make Christmas jumpers the best worst things ever.
They’re the spirit of Christmas in knitted form, a reminder that Christmas is a special day when the usual rules don’t apply, a sign that says that for today at least we’re going to stop being so bloody uptight.
Cool can wait until tomorrow.
They say that every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings; well every time you wear a Christmas jumper, a snob explodes.
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