This week I’ve been having my best friend’s Christmas nightmare.
It’s the morning of the 25th, the family are gathered around the tree and she suddenly realises she’s forgotten to buy the turkey.
It has never happened because she’s a super-organised festive fairy. But now I’ve inherited her bad dream as I’m totally unprepared for Christmas.
I haven’t bought a card or present, I can’t listen to Slade or Mariah on the radio and I haven’t so much as glanced at the pigs in blankets or potted Stilton in Sainsbury’s.
And there are still five sleeps to go before I can smile at that Gavin and Stacey trailer and finally step into Christmas.
Because Thursday’s general election has been hovering like a dark cloud and making my yuletide grey.
It has turned a time of excitement and optimism into one of gloom and disillusion. And it’s transformed the season of goodwill to all men into open season on those we disagree with.
I’m sure I’m not the only person to have put my festivities on hold as this toxic campaign of lies and misinformation poisons the Christmas punch.
I should be in the kitchen making mince pies and singing along to my mum’s favourite Christmas carol, When A Child is Born.
But I really can’t see a ray of hope flicker in the sky or any possibility of new morn dawning across the land.
I fear I’ll never find a political saviour to make the walls of doubt come tumbling down.
And I stopped believing long ago that the old bloke with a beard and a red outfit could fulfil his many promises.
So when we wake up on Friday morning, little will have changed.
I reckon that “oven-ready Brexit ” will still be sitting on the Downing Street work-top, waiting for the EU oven to warm up.
And the Tories may even have a few more hands to help Boris get the Brussels on.
But at least the shouting and acrimony will stop for a few days and we can finally prepare for a happy, peaceful Christmas.
Before the political turkey we asked for sparks a New Year nightmare we’ll all share.
