Sock it to me baby

I am writing to you from the queue in M&S Kingston.  All men in Surrey will be receiving socks for Christmas this year; I have first hand knowledge of this fact.  If I die in this line it was not without noble endeavour.  The madness is truly with us.  I want to yell "STOP, good people, Christmas is yet two weeks away and the shops will not run out of tangerines or crackers or chocolates or socks, honestly."  But, I do feel rather smug knowing that I have done my Christmas shopping but for a plant and a cracker.  Plants for aunts and crackers for everyone so we can wear nasty little paper hats, read out groany old jokes and fiddle with  little metal puzzles or dollies' screwdriver sets throughout lunch.  Actually, I might deputise the cracker buying to Supermarket man.  On second thoughts I'm not sure I can face Mr Smith's "waste of money" lecture.  Oh to live with a Santa's little hater is such a joy.