Your guide to being a boring festive fart.

I saw a bauble in Curry's today. Someone had secreted it between two cameras in a display case. A small thing with a portentous message: the festive season is coming - prepare to enjoy yourself. Soon, if we're “lucky”, our diaries will be crammed with parties. All that dancing, rich food and cheap booze. I feel sick already.

I went to a party last week. I managed ten minutes before leaving. I don't like dancing so I'm left shouting over JLS and Rihanna trying to have a conversation with someone I hardly know. Our only common interest is our lack of interest in each other.

If you've got a proper job you'll probably be subjected to the horrors of the annual office party. An event so cringeworthy we can only be grateful that, like a prostate examination, it only happens once a year.

Like a doomed family wedding that no one wants to attend, the 'work's do' brings together a disparate bunch of people with little in common. Where it not for pressure from the boss to attend and the enticement of free alcohol, they probably wouldn't even exist.

Other than stress and pay-cuts, the main topic of conversation is usually limited to who's shagging who, who wants to shag who, and who's shagged who. No wonder everyone gets drunk.

If do you survive till chucking out time, there are more delights in store. Fetid kebabs, queuing in the pissing rain for a taxi or the delights of the night bus. Maybe all three.

Eight hours later you wake up with a pounding head and a mouth like coconut matting. Facebook will be buzzing for days with “What a fantastic night it was,” as everyone agrees to, “Do it all again soon.”

As you'll gather, I am not a big fan of fun. At least not the kind to be summoned regardless of the circumstances. As Kitty, played by Patricia Routledge, said when asked if she likes fun, “No I don't! I had enough of that in 1976 when I got trapped inside a lift with a hula-hoop salesman.”

I about to celebrate my forty-first birthday so I'm officially allowed to be a boring old fart and not give a sugarcane candy stick what anyone thinks. I hope my memorable nights this holiday season will include some decent conversations with people I actually like, a few good meals around cosy dining tables, and plenty of laughs. Now, that's a holiday season I can actually look forward to.

Merry Christmas, everyone.