Christmas jumpers. Discuss.
I have no problem with them on small children. I have no problem with your uncle wearing one on Christmas Day after several glasses of Bailey’s. I will even tolerate them on a celebrity or two as long a sit’s on the Graham Norton show.
But in the work place? I don’t think so.
I have lost count of the number of reasonable, grown-up people I see – usually attired for 11 months of the year in businesswear – who lose all sense (both common and fashion) come December and take to sporting hideous knitwear.
From 3D comedy Rudolphs to flashing snowmen and giant Christmas puds, the Christmas jumper remains as ubiquitous and as irritating as ever.
I just don’t get it. Why spend even a few quid – because let’s face it, these things are usually as cheap as chips and won’t stand to be near a naked flame – on something you can only wear a handful of times?
And God forbid you’re caught rolling your eyes at Gary from Accounts in his festive sparkly number because then you’ll be labelled someone who is No Fun and possibly even Miserable.
And at this time of year Fun is Mandatory. Whether you like it or not.
So, if you haven’t succumbed as yet to this fashion fiasco I urge you not to.
It will be the saviour of your dignity.
And my sanity.
And talking of eye rolling – I did my fair share when I heard some radio stations had decided to ban that staple of many a Christmas playlist, Baby It’s Cold Outside.
The argument is that in these post #MeToo times the lyrics are questionable at best and at worst frankly disturbing.
My first thought was: what a load of nonsense.
It’s a cheery tune, beloved of department stores and covered by everyone from Dean Martin to Lady Ga Ga.
What could possibly be the problem?
But then I listened to it. Then I Googled the lyrics. And the problem is there for all to see.
“I’ve got to get home,” warbles the woman. “But baby it’s cold outside,” replies the bloke.
“The answer is no,” she continues before asking“Say, what’s in this drink?”
And so it goes on – her trying to leave, him pressing her to stay.
It’s creepy and inappropriate.
I know it may have been written in simpler times – the 1940s to be exact – but that’s no excuse here in 2018.
Time to change the record.
First published Liverpool Echo, 15th December 2018.
Susan Lee 