The monster in this work revealed

It is with fury that I write to you in December. (By the way I hope you’re well…)

You’re a well-loved novelist and favourite in our household. But now I realise how much Christmas tripe I can lay at your doorstep.

From the saintly and exploitative charities to the intolerance of anyone who can’t stand this season (It’s not a season – though retailers try hard to make it last a full three months) to the cheap glitter and overwhelming gift giving to the Tiny Tims of this world and the eating and drinking fests forced on us.

Ebeneezer Scrooge might have been a bitter man. That’s always worth a visit from three spirits.

But the real humbug which constitutes being cheery, having to like everybody, sending meaningless cards, receiving meaningless cards, becoming big-hearted and deep-pocketed is all your fault!

Being a smart man you wouldn’t have foreseen the corruption of your well-meaning message. But Scrooge has now become a word bandied about by those who’ve convinced themselves they’ve become godly, forgiving, generous merry souls at Christmas.

They’re the same people who bitch and crab and complain the rest of the year. People like me.

You’ve created a society of falsehood!

Charles, (may I call you Chas) if there’s one book of yours I’d ban, it would be A Christmas Carol.

Did you know that because of this, we now worship a Coca-Cola coloured Santa, have heart-rending ads trying to appeal to our brittle consciences which make us give (resentfully) in the hope of appeasing our hardened consciences?

Maybe in your time you were one of those smiling idiots who detested anyone with a glum (serious, thoughtful, downright unhappy) face. Maybe you created Scrooge in your own image? Did someone find you bitter, heartless and lacking Christmas spirit?

Maybe (going by the image always shown on literature about you) you yourself wanted the world to happy and hearty and always laughing – so you didn’t have to. Life can be unfair can’t it?

We’re now all changed men – the post visited Scrooge. I scold you for this.

I think society can cope much better with the pre-Christmas Carol Scrooge – one miserable man making other people’s lives difficult. It didn’t stop them having their own ‘Happy Christmas’.

Now we have millions of cheerful folk determined to spread that Christmas cheer. They’re ghastly in their persistence.

I had to deal with a boiler repair man and a courier recently who were the men they probably were all year: difficult and argumentative. I didn’t mind. I could be difficult back. Without that fake cheeriness to bully me, the jobs still got done and we each went our own ways.

In a parallel universe, they’d have smiled, delivered my parcel and fixed the boiler (resentfully) with a (false) smile, wished me happy Christmas through gritted teeth (because their line manage told them to) and driven off at high speed.

Mr. Dickens, (and how are your parents?) I lament the day Scrooge was created. But I forgive you this dreadful error… Because… I so closely relate to this central character.

With his set life and inability to see the error of his ways and his regrets and the way people disliked him and how he relied on money to buttress him up… Scrooge is a real person. I’d rather deal with a real person any day.

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