SAY 'NAH I'M NOT GOING' AND DON'T GO

Ah, error! You are trying to be a scrooge but you are spiritually forbidden from it. You’ve been gearing yourself up for this bit for months – “I don’t like organised fun,” you say, “I don’t take this job that seriously. I don’t want to know any of you outside of work” – and then, when the moment comes, when you’re going to make your big protest and walk out un-festively with your coat on, someone drops a beaker of prosecco on your desk and your boss starts making a speech and tells everyone that he personally has bought you all gifts – a bottle of gin here, a box of chocolates there – to thank you all for your hard work this year, and fuck it, right? You can have one, can’t you? You can go out and have one. You are capable of having one. And all the time you’re sober – right up until 11PM, when the psychic lights go out and you wake up abruptly the next day at 8 with the sour smell of the sesh on your tongue – all the time until then you keep telling yourself: just one, just one. I hate these people. I hate Christmas. If I want a roast dinner, I’ll have one with my family on the 25th.

Stop lying to yourself, prick. Get in the taxi and we’ll all go have a pint.