Christmas Crackers

It's nearly Christmas. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid. By Paul McDermott.

It's still a few weeks away, but the warning tremors are here. There is a hightened sense of terror on the street. The desperate scramble has begun and it will not be over until well into the New Year. Statistically, more people suffer breakdowns during holidays, and Christmas takes the honours for the highest incidence of crack-ups.

If your trolley is going to run off the rails, it is more likely to do so in the coming weeks than at any other time of the year.

You are the most important person in the world and, for once, you must think of yourself. You're like Santa to your family- without you, there is no yuletide joy. You are the passport to fun, the source of all understanding.

Don't expect your family to notice you falling apart, they're too busy trying to buy you presents. It is one of the greatest riddles of Christmas that we are so concerned with being generous, we have very little time for kindness. You could be wearing a tutu, urinating into the salad and no one would notice.

You have worked hard this year and you deserve a rest. The days grow shorter as your list of commitments grow longer. A few more hurdles and the end of the year is in sight. On the horizon, a golden crest of glorious sunshine beckons. Christmas is coming and another year is condemned to memory. The time has come to let the sun kiss away the tears of anguish and to dance upon the edge of rainbows. I tell you: don't be a fool!

You can't wind down- you have got to stay tense. No! You can't afford to be tense. Why? Because everyone relies on you. But the mere fact everyone relies on you makes you tense. Admit you're tense. You're that poor, sad-looking Christmas tree in the corner. Each piece of tinsel, each tiny wooden Santa, every coloure ball, drags your branches even lower. Overloaded with baubles, bound by flashing lights and unbalanced, you are about to topple into the middle of the lounge.

The reason we experience trauma over Christmas is because we believe we can relax. I tell you solemnly- do not relax. The only way to avoid a fall is to convince yourself the hurdles keep coming. When the last hurdle is in sight, conjure another in your mind. As you approach that one, imagine another. Keep this up for the rest of your life. There is one conslation for this method- you'll die young.

Stay alert! In every store, carols attempt to lull you into a false sense of security. Beware! These songs are a rallying call to misery. You are salivating at the thought of turkey and cranberry sauce. It is a recipe for disaster. To protect yourself and your family you must continue to set yourself hurdles and, whatever else you do, do not relax.

Trust me, because four days ago I relaxed and three days ago the wheels fell of my trolley.

Three days ago, the face that greeted me in the mirror was not my own. A hideous creature loomed before me. Two dark, blsck bags dragged my eyes down to my cheek. My cheek had collapsed into my neck. My neck was hiding in my chest. My stubble was like sandpaper. I had accidentally sprayed Baygon on my toothbrush. At every turn, malevolent forcesx conspired against me.

The bus was late, so I took a cab. The cab driver didn't seem to be in the same city as me. I was sweating, my heart was grey from worry. It was failing in its sole function- to keep me alive until the festive season. The lift was out, so I took the stairs. I had a continual headache. It was behind my eyeball, threatening to push the pulsing orb out the socket and onto my cheek.

I know it isn't a tumor. It can't be. I haven't got time for a tumour. There's a small in the house I can't locate. Someone keeps calling a 4.23 in the morning. I have been urinating into my salad.

I type this letter with a pencil attached to my forehead at a major metropolitan hospital.

Merry Christmas.

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