Dos and don’ts for Christmas day

Don’t be the twat who buys someone a charity donation

Your ten-year-old niece doesn’t want to sponsor a donkey. Like, you might be on your (sure to be short-lived) animal conservation hype, but she isn’t riding that wave yet. Get her some plastic tat. 

Don’t get uppity about Yorkshires 

Okay they’re not technically traditional, but, you know, people are dying. Get some perspective. Enjoy life. 

Do be patient with hard-of-hearing relatives

Some of these people saw WWII. And they’ll be telling you all about it when you pass them the gravy. 

Do invite that cousin that nobody likes over 

It will likely make their year — just try not to sit next to them at lunch.

Do a seating plan 

Related to the last one. 

Don’t go out for Christmas dinner 

You’re telling me you’re going to go sit at some average establishment and have minimum wage workers fawn over you and your horrible family’s Christmas requests? What is this, an episode of Succession? Are you Logan Roy? 

Do go out for Christmas dinner 

It is quite finicky to make homemade gravy, to be fair. The roast potatoes always take longer than you think they’re going to, too. 

Don’t post whatever cards your nan played in Cards Against Humanity on your Instagram story

She played a card that referenced cock? Ha, legendary! What about that one that veered on the slightly racist side, though? Didn’t see that one, did I? 

Do get pissed

You should be sipping on a mimosa by 8am and feeling slightly nauseous by 4pm. If there’s a day to do it, it’s Christmas… And Christmas eve? And, like, any given Tuesday? And Wednesday? 

Don’t get too pissed 

The aforementioned cousin is crying and your mum chucked the burnt carrots in the bin a-la Ian on The Great British Bake Off. 

Do get right on it the night before

Do it correctly (five beers and a bump here or there) and you can enjoy Christmas in that kind of hungover daze where everything’s funny and nothing really matters. 

Don’t get right on it the night before 

You’ve been sick in your little sister’s stocking. There’s remnants of cocaine on the decorative mirrored tray your mum recently bought from TK Maxx. 

Do opt to cook the Christmas dinner so you get two hours of respite from your godawful relatives that you don’t want to see again for a couple of months after today 

Self-explanatory. If anyone comes into the kitchen, you’re fully within your right to tell them to fuck off. 

Do let mum do the Christmas dinner 

It’s not a proper family Christmas until she cries, is it? 

Do watch all the crap on the telly 

Ratatouille (or whatever adjacent family film BBC has lined up) is objectively brilliant and it will send all older relatives into a deep, deep slumber. Then you’re not only watching a lovely rat cooking up a storm while slightly pissed on prosecco, but you get a small break from whatever racist tidbits they’ve been saving up for the big day.

Don’t spend Christmas with your boyfriend of three months 

Like, don’t be a fucking fool. 

Do pretend to be thrilled about the M&S socks

It’s your third pair this morning and your aunt Margaret’s beaming like she’s solved the energy crisis. Just smile and add them to the stack that’ll sit in your drawer until next December.

Don’t start a debate about Love Actually

We get it, you think it’s problematic now. Save your think piece for Twitter and just watch Emma Thompson cry over that Joni Mitchell CD like everyone else.

Do lie about your job to distant relatives

“Yeah, the influencer marketing space is really dynamic right now” sounds better than explaining you’re still on a zero-hours contract at Pret.

Don’t suggest a Christmas morning walk

Nobody wants to waddle around the estate in their new pyjamas looking at other people’s tacky decorations. 

Do pretend you remember your second cousin’s kids’ names

Just keep saying “mate” and pointing enthusiastically. You’ll be gone by Boxing Day anyway.

Don’t bring up the Christmas when dad tried to deep fry the turkey

The garage still has scorch marks and mum’s eye still twitches when anyone mentions Jamie Oliver.

Don’t insist on trying out a few Ottolenghi recipes

“Yay, a trout rillette” said no one ever. 

Don’t tell everyone that your Christmas is so similar to that episode of Peep Show

Don’t do an impression of the line about the turkey either — please. 

Do play a few games of charades 

Choosing The Wolf of Wall Street then miming snorting a line of coke is a really fun way of letting your mum know that you’re quite heavily into Class As.  

Don’t play charades 

Ditto. 

Do spread lots of Christmas cheer 

And think about how you’re quite lucky to be able to do so. It’s got to be said!