Thursday, December 2

Naked shelves, no holidays… Finally, a Biblical Christmas | Ed cumming


“C“Christmas won’t be Christmas without presents,” says Jo at the beginning of Little woman. BoJo is doing better. This Christmas, not only will there be no presents, but there will be nothing. After canceling Christmas entirely last year, this time he’s creating a kind of Christmas half-Christmas methadone, to make it easier for us to get back to the festival. There is nothing that man does not do to compare himself to Churchill. Thanks to your foresight and the happy accidents of the global economy, we will be able to bask in our beloved blitz spirit, fixing and mending ourselves, with a safe and low dose of consumerism to help us.

There will be no PlayStation 5 below where the Christmas tree used to be. There will be no jokes in Mrs. Brown’s boys, as usual, but not in Christmas cookies either. There are no gas drivers or heavy vehicles, of course, but correspondents also report shortages of tennis balls, merlot, white bread, sardines, M&S chicken kievs, fish sauce, frozen apple strudel, canned sardines, chives, fire alarms, effective opposition, chocolate hobnobs, cat vaccinations, cat deworming tablets, bubble bath, lionfish finger wraps, jam, butter beans, dog poop bags, goats, chips, coffee decaf, bulbs (plant), bulbs (light), pigs, blankets, pigs in blankets, roofing lead and Harry Potter merchandise, especially wands. The latter is difficult to accept; there are usually more wands than can be moved with a stick.

If you manage to make it to December 25 with a full tank and can dodge the armed blockades of Insulate Britain, you will hit houses that are too expensive to heat. Environmentalists should be encouraging the free movement of cars this Christmas; There are few people more persuasive on the subject of double glazing than a cold mother-in-law. There will be no turkeys, or at least undead. There are many roaming the barns, but there is no one to kill them. For the few who make it to Bernard Matthews’ great barn in the sky, there is no one to drive them to the shops. In a delicious irony, there is a shortage of everything except a shortage. Like it or not, this is what leadership looks like.

No one could accuse this government of neglecting traditional values. This brave and combative group of officials has devised the kind of country they want and is working hard to achieve it. They have looked at our little lives and realized that while we pretend to yearn for the choices brought by being a modern nation, we actually hate them. We scrolled through Netflix for an hour, increasingly furious, before giving up and going to bed. With the whole history of music burned into our pockets, we turn to Ed Sheeran over and over again. We flipped through a hundred kitchens on Deliveroo before deciding to order Domino’s. We don’t know what to do with the choice.

Through careful management of shortages by the government, it is eliminating mundane consumer decisions, such as which cereal to buy or what milk to put on its flat target, and replacing them with more existential questions, such as “Will my children die? hungry? ” and “Will I be able to heat my house?” By doing so, you are creating meaningful experiences for a generation that has softened. The pleasure of choosing from 20 types of pasta is nothing compared to knowing you’ve eaten the last pack in Islington. You probably take your lights on for granted, but you won’t when they’ve been out for a month. Across the country, people who will never know what it’s like to fight a war are trying out the same esprit de corps in gas station yards.

As for Christmas itself, the event has been asking for a bit more drama. Instead of a bloated dry turkey spree, a bird that at best proves that meat choices are not always desirable, and low-grade family conflict, Christmas 2021 will be a healthy affair more in line with the original event. Small groups of us, having returned to subsistence farming, will be sitting on the slopes, tending our livestock, before using the stars to navigate on foot to an inn and ask if we can sleep in the barn. We still have two months left. Long time to appreciate the irony that Brexit has helped spawn the kind of Christmas turkeys they might actually have voted for.


www.theguardian.com

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