It's a wonderful life...once a year.
So the festive season is nearly over and limping damply away into the gray drizzle that is January. Party poppers lie sodden on the pavements along with empty bottles, cigarette butts and used condoms spelling out Happy Christmas! from the festivities a few nights before.
Bargain hunters trawl the shops for those must have sale items, trying to recapture that giddy whirlwind of consumerism that drove them only a week before.
Only to wearily stumble back to their happy homes, armed with a £15 toaster and some foot and mouth artists Christmas cards, 500 for a quid.
Illuminated by faulty fairy lights their winter wonderland now resembles the scene of a sex attack, the gift boxes torn to shreds with wrapping stuffed drunkenly into black bags on the driveway in the rain.
Guilt free of course because the presents were 'just asking to be opened'.
The insane build up to Christmas has always fascinated me, and the almost viral way it infects people.
I love the time off. Getting to spend time with the kids and issue free, day time drinking. But i can see that it is all a bit of an anti climax. All the goodwill and humanity is quite beautiful, but all so fleeting.
That festive ambiance if bottled would be a commodity far more valuable than Gold, and oh, how the commercial forces try to capture it.
It can be recreated (annually) but never bottled. Its almost as if Christmas has chemical properties that dictate that it can only be properly created once a year in the right conditions, but will atomically deconstruct immediately after the stroke of 12 midnight on 31st December.
The heartwarming sense of future achievement can heard over the roof tops as the New Years resolves are shouted out, I will be Bigger! Thinner! Faster! Stronger! Better....
..only to be met by the massive cloud of apathy a week later that suggests you leave it till next year, when your arteries are more clogged, lungs blacker and those ignored Big Issue sellers have now over dosed on cheap crack, cut with rat poison.
But its all okay, because our own yearly fix of sticky sweet Optimism is only 11 months away.
It says a lot that the nations favorite Christmas film is 'Its a Wonderful Life'.
My own person fave is Die Hard, its got Christmas songs in, its snowing, and Bruce Willis is in it. Wonderful Life is a roller coaster of misery and despair following the story of George Bailey, who for the sake of his fellow towns people sacrifices his dreams and youth to keep an evil banker from fore closing everything in sight.
I'm sure you've all seen it, but his saved suicide by Clarence his Guardian Angel looking to earn his wings, and the final smarm fest of the townsfolk gathering to his house is a loud and clear vision of how brilliantly we all treat each other on Christmas Eve, but that's all.
Altogether now 'But its a Wonderful Life George' ...
If only a sequel was made, where once Clarence gets his wings he clears off and forgets about George, letting him die of Aids that he caught at the local whore house whilst on a depressed alcoholic bender, and all the townsfolk discover that the mortgages George sold them weren't worth shit, leaving them in the soup kitchens come spring time.
Maybe then, a few of us might learn that to be happy we need to treat each other better 'All Year Round' and just like a sack full of unwanted kittens 'Not Just For Christmas'.
I've always likened it to a 1 month prolonged bit of foreplay with all the promises, wining, dining and 69ing you could ask for.
Only to left with a fake snow money shot and paying to sleep in the wet spot. Forever regretting the fact that we open our legs a bit too easy for a bit of festive charm and a tree in the house.
This year I say lets treat ourselves to 12 months of heavy petting and put out more than once a year.
Happy New Year Mofos.