Camilla Long survives Christmas

by Camilla Long | December 12, 2014

Originally published Michaelmas term 1998

The Christmas of our youth! Button noses, snowflakes, small wrapped gifts and Cherryade! Tossing and turning with excitement, waiting for a big red man to thrust his hands into our stockings… and still only 12! Tra-la! And now? No stockings, because we’re too old; Grandma dribbling into her Christmas pudding; and the fact that the cat has vomited on the turkey. Reducing the lighthearted Christmassy atmosphere to something a little more strained. A large reindeer could have shat for days on my entire house during the Christmasses of my youth but I’d have still rejoiced, just because it was Christmas, honest.

One year I got loo rolls and tinned mackerel in my stocking – or shall I say a hopeful duvet cover – but it was worth it to feel the weight of the full stocking at the end of my bed in the morning. The whole festival just seems a little more complicated now than it was all those aeons ago – and according to my shrewd and compulsively-right mother, suicide rates rocket at Christmas. Well, that may be so, but before you turn to the shotgun, I’d like you to consider some remedies.


Find out who’s ever given you presents and don’t bother giving them any this year, because they obviously like you and don’t need your simpering sycophancy anyway. This leaves you with people who don’t like you, and therefore who don’t really deserve any presents full stop. That’s straightforward enough, I suppose. But, if you are really interested, I came across an extremely good present on the radio the other day (yes, it was Fox FM, and no, I don’t get out much): why don’t you book one of your friends – or acquaintances – into a nice, calm private clinic for a gall bladder removal, a kidney stone, or even a facelift. Just think, we could all be beautiful for New Year! Or, alternatively, still pig-ugly but with a permanently surprised expression on our face (which would probably make the reception of the less exciting presents easier).

Tally-ho! To keep Granny or Aunty Marina thoroughly amused though, I would personally recommend hours of ruthless fun with a Purple WarriorTM Thrildo Rapier, available from certain catalogues (Toys’R’Us only sell them if they light up as sabres – and they’re gone within 20 minutes anyway). However, should these suggestions seem in some way inappropriate, then I recommend that you buy good old novelty Disney loo rolls for all and sundry. So clean! So cheap! So much fun!


James Bond re-enactment is always a clear winner at Christmas time, and my sources inform me that they play it at some of the most delectable gatherings of the party season! Key characters include Bond, of course; Blofeld; various token females; and, for the older women – no, not a Thrildo Rapier – but Rosa Klebb, complete with exciting stab-extension shoe accessories. Then I really do find that naked Twister provides a certain thrill at Christmas time (or at any time of the year) especially is playing with Mr Blackmamba, my engaging next-door neighbour. Shagadelic! Lashings of Body Shop oil make the fun last even longer so, if you want a Christmas as hot as my pants (and they have been compared with a four-cylinder combustion engine before now), whip out your comely set and whip off your clothes (or vice versa!).

Oh, by the way – mud wrestling is really quite passé now. We simply don’t dig on it. Alternatively, if you have given Granny a Purple WarriorTM, the Ancient Greek pursuit of ‘Hunt the Phallus’ always gets a party rocking – and you know how fruity those Greeks were! But those tempted to use totally huge ones – and I know you’re out there – beware! It’s not clever, it’s not funny, and they’re easier to find anyway, just making the game altogether shorter and less satisfactory.


Always a good idea around Christmas time but, with Iceland and Asda, how can Mummy not go out and buy shedloads of reconstituted ham and stacks of ice lollies? Easily enough, I say! Instead, simply go to Indonesia and pick up some handy tips for tribal canapés made from an assortment worms, maggots and jungle grubs. They’re so unusual – and I bet you that the neighbours won’t have them either. Just stir into pasta or rice, and serve up! And why not spend a little extra or a special roast dinner – buy up! And why not spend a little extra on a special roast dinner – buy a peacock, swan, ostrich or even kangaroo? Australians wouldn’t give a XXXX for anything else. Or if you really are poor, just buy the feet instead – they’re practically giving them away at Sainsbury’s! Aphrodisiacs are a must at Christmas, I think you’ll agree – and my favourite is, – yes, you’ve guessed it – Tiger PenisTM, available on the Chinese black market. Have fun. Let rip.