ONCE again we’ve come to that wonderful time of year where cheery jangly Christmas music rings out wherever you go while radio stations put the Greatest Festive Tunes Ever! album on repeat and go home for the month.

No prizes for guessing just how much I hate it.

Just once I’d like to be able to set foot outside during December without hearing Paul McCartney smugly sing about what a wonderful Christmas time he’s having, Noddy Holder screaming like someone’s drunken uncle or the ramblings of Bono et al.

And that’s not to mention the worst offender. A song that has somehow gained the reputation as the Christmas song even people who hate Christmas songs loves.

Every discussion of awful Christmas music inevitably gets to the point where some bright sparks chips in with “Except for The Fairytale of New York of course!”

In its own right The Pogues anthem is at least a fairly serviceable song – more than can be said for the rest of every radio station’s Christmas playlist – but by virtue of apparently being universally beloved it falls victim to being massively overplayed.

There’s nothing like constant repetition to suck the joy out of something.

Del Boy falling through a bar was hilarious the first time. It was still funny the tenth time. But the 100th time?

Please, have mercy.

I tend to do my best to do as much of my shopping in brick-and-mortar shops as possible as I’m very conscious of the impact of internet shopping on old fashioned retailers.

But at least Amazon doesn’t blast Slade at you at full volume.

January is one of my favourite times of year, not because of the optimistic promise of a new year, but because I know it’s the longest possible time before I have to hear that couple have an argument again.

I don’t hate Christmas in and of itself – any day in which it’s acceptable to spend all day eating a massive meal, wear a silly hat and watch Jurassic Park again while munching thorough an entire box of chocolate bars is alright in my book.

But it would be so much better without the dreadful music.