‘Tis the season for wearing outlandish, itchy, ill-fitting Christmas jumpers. Well, maybe not so much this year, as office parties have been cancelled en masse meaning we have less opportunity to parade around in our ‘hilarious’ festive apparel. Personally I think they kind of lost their impact when everybody started to wear one as opposed to your one uncle in a completely irony-free manner. Now they are as common as muck.
Deep within the bowels of my wardrobe lurks a particularly hideous offering featuring a snowman with a carrot protruding from my chest. It’s like Frosty the Snowman meets Alien. I think I wore it once to an office charity day. I actually had to give money to publicly humiliate myself in front of my work colleagues. I think it was around mid-May when people stopped talking about me and my ‘orange extremity.’ They truly are a hilarious bunch.
No self-respecting office party-goer can model the latest in ridiculous sweaters without an equally garish pair of novelty socks. Preferably ones that can be seen from several miles away. Sound effects are optional but extra points for bell attachments or tinny, electronic choruses of ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ every time you click your heels together. Such is my disdain they actually pop up in one of my books, which is set in September.
You might think I’m going to conclude this festive post by revealing my own festive foot furniture. But alas, as our Prime Minister likes to say a lot, I can’t as my children keep raiding my sock drawer leaving me with nothing but the Valentines Day themed pair in the attached photo. I would say my thieving kids are heartless but that would be the worst pun ever so I won’t inflict that upon you all. Oh, hang on, I just have…