I’ve always hated Christmas jumpers.
It’s one of those tedious habits adopted by the middle class that seems to gain momentum annually. Men are the usual offenders, using the Christmas jumper as just another excuse to draw attention to their otherwise beige and bland lifestyle of Ikea, Fantasy Football and The Kings of Leon.
Strutting about with the stupid grin of someone that simply hasn’t been given enough work to do, proudly displaying a stupid jumper with a fucking snow man and a real nose made from a bobble of wool. How ironic dude!
Look at me everyone, please stop what you’re doing and take a moment to look and appreciate how zany and wacky I am. Got this bad boy from Primarni for 99p! I like a larrf! Me and the lads are going to our local (Almost certainly a chain pub) this evening actually wearing these jumpers!!! Yes Way!!! That’s totally what we’re going to be doing!
All of this is in keeping with the modern phenomenon of needing to be the centre of attention whilst not wanting to fall foul of the law or your pathetic company management. A logical progression from posting ‘fun stuff’ on Facebook and waiting for some kind of recognition from an equally boring set of friends who share an interest in side splitting comedy.
To put the Christmas jumper in perspective, they’ve been described by the women hating Daily Mail as, ‘A must have’ and ‘Bang on trend’, simply because Fearne Cotton and numerous other banal celebrities have been spotted wearing one. I’ve seen the pictures, the stupid naughty grin of a style icon that’s brave enough to be uncool for a day, the fake over confidence of everyone’s favourite down to earth chubby twat.
Whilst It’s easy to shrug this off as just another craze, we could also point to the Christmas jumper as a continuation of the irreverent throw away culture that we have embraced in recent years. The selfish student, terrified of standing up to anything or anyone and masking his smug indifference with a veneer of apathy.
There’s more. Christmas jumpers, along with Movember and the rise of middle management have simply ruined office life for anyone over the age of 35. Once a place of cynasism, dark humour and alcohol abuse, the office has been transformed into a Googlesque fortress of muesli and PlayStations. A bland and uninspiring landscape of pie charts and laddish banter. It’s why I work from home and am happy to admit that I am a complete business failure.
Oh it’s just a bit of fun! Scrooge!
It’s not fun though is it? What’s fun about an ironic jumper made by children in sweatshops? It’s probably funny if you watch Dr Who or work for the BBC, otherwise it’s just childish.
So next time you pull on a Christmas jumper, spare a thought for the guy next to you on the train, who might just want to read the paper and not indulge the attention seeking of a spoilt child.