So, about that pay rise boss?

Christmas time, mistletoe and wine, children singing Christian rhyme… but their parents are making fools of themselves at the office Christmas party. What is it about this time of year, that makes seemingly placid and mild-mannered colleagues, suddenly decide that it’s a good idea to drink their own weight in eggnog, before attempting to persuade their boss that they really deserve a much higher salary?

Well… because it’s Chriiistmasss! Let your hair down. If you have some. If you don’t, then why not wear a comedy wig? You have to get into the spirit now, don’t ya? If you don’t laugh at the secret santa gift that you’ve just opened, then clearly you’re just a Scrooge. Plain and simple. Why on Earth would you not find a Mr Hankey the Christmas Poo costume funny? Toilet humour and Christmas theme = win-win. I’m sure no-one will mind you wearing it in Claridges. It is Christmas, after all.

Except that it’s not. As a cost-cutting measure, also known as the ‘Scrooge principle’, your employer has decided to have the Christmas party in November. But on the plus side, at least the mince pies are free this year. That will give you something to stuff into your chops, once Maureen from accounts tries to engage you in idle chit-chat. She doesn’t realise her nickname is Mad Dog, so make sure you keep it quiet.

We’ve all been there, trying to enjoy ourselves with people we barely know, other than having previously met when you stole all their hot water as they stepped away for a moment from their tea run.

This year, I had the pleasure of wearing a towelling Superman outfit, my secret Santa gift, as I attempted to ice skate in Hyde Park. Well, at least it kept me warm and I’m happy to be the butt of ironic humour from time to time. Yes, yes, I know Superman should be able to skate…. I must have Kryptonite in my underpants mustn’t I?

A colleague made the journey home on the bus, post nightclub, all the more memorable by singing Fairytale of New York. Repeatedly. Other than a few lines of Last Christmas, it seemed to be the only song he knew. And, being Irish, he did a pretty good impression of Shane MacGowan, helped by another inebriated Irishman who just happened to be on the same bus. Best of all, when he got home, he actually thought it was Christmas day and opened his presents. Someone’s going to have an awkward Christmas day.

But at least no-one made a total fool of him/herself this year. Being a small company, we all know each other fairly well so there is less chance of copping off with someone from another department who just happens to be within range when you’re feeling at your most drunk amorous. The type of rabid behaviour witnessed when people-who-really-should-get-out-more, are unleashed from their domestic captivity bliss and devour the complimentary wine like a vampire feasts on virgin’s blood. But you never know, there’s always next year…

Happy Christmas to my readers. I wish you both the best of good fortune in 2012.