We've won the war on Christmas.

It’s official, gentlemen. The Christmas season is officially over. That’s right, I’ve logged my last amount of tinsel, presents, and mince pie of 2025. The battle for the 25th of December has finally been won. As you may be aware, I’m a former member of the MOD, a chap who’s seen some action, been up against all sorts of scum. The IRA, the Taliban, you name it. But nothing has shaken me quite like the events of December 2025. Back in 2025, me and the missus decided to have our first Christmas alone in years. The kids were off at Uni, and wanted to be somewhere else for their first festive season as adults. So we decided to get a little holiday away. We chose the small, snowy town of Shere, in the heart of England. It was a nice little cottage, right next to the river Tice Hill, and within walking distance to the local pubs and high-street. We were set for a fun festive holiday, with nothing but work-out plans, Christmas cracker jokes, and bad re-runs of Elf. But on December 26th, something changed. I was standing out the front of our cottage, smoking a fag and drinking a cold beer, when I noticed the most peculiar sight. Every house on the street had a giant Christmas tree standing in their front drive. They were decorated with tinsel and fairy lights, and even what looked like a few angels, and candy canes. They were all decorated, and looked, in fantastic spirit. I must have stood there, drinking my beer and staring at the trees, for quite a while. I must have stood there, dumbfaked, for over thirty minutes. When I finally went back inside, I decided to make the missus a hot chocolate, as a little festive treat. I went to the cupboard, and to my astonishment, all of our Christmas treats were gone. The mince pie tin was in the bin, smashed to pieces, the sugar and cocoa were missing from the cupboards. I went downstairs, and into the kitchen, to see what else was missing. I was hoping that the neighbour kids had just “borrowed” a few treats, as a bit of fun. But when I opened the back door, to dump the bin bag, I noticed that the garden shed was open. I went inside to investigate, and it wasn’t just the treats that were gone, all of our Christmas decorations were missing too. I walked back inside, and told the missus what I’d found. She said to just order some more from Amazon, but I said no, this just didn’t feel right. Something was going on, and I was going to find out what. I went back outside, to the front drive, and noticed that our tree was gone too. I looked around the street, and saw that no houses had any decorations in them, they all had Christmas trees, just like the night before, but with no lights or tinsel. I finally had enough, and decided to investigate further. I walked down the street, knocking on doors and asking what had happened to the decorations. Every house told me to fuck off. The old dears, who I assumed were the organisers, were stood outside the village hall, having a cuppa. I went inside, and asked them what the fuck was going on. The oldest of the old dears looked at me, and said, “It’s official, sir. The war on Christmas has finally been won.” I asked what the hell she meant, and she said, “You see, the festive season is over now, and it’s officially time to pack it all away until next year.” I was fucking baffled, gentlemen. I’d never heard anything quite like this before. The festive season? Over? How is that fucking possible? I asked her to explain, and she said, “Well sir, we’ve been fighting for Christmas for a very, very long time. From the early Christian days, when Jesus was born. Then the Battle of the Bulge in the 40’s, when America took back Colmar. And the many years of commercialisation in the 70’s and 80’s. Well, we’ve finally done it. We’ve won.” I stood there in utter confusion. Stared at the old dear, as she smiled at me. “You see, the festive season is now officially over. It’s officially time to take down the decorations.” I laughed. I fucking laughed, gentlemen. I couldn’t believe it. All these years, I’d thought we were fighting to keep Christmas, not to get rid of it. I got back to the cottage, and told the missus the news. She just rolled her eyes and said “I fucking told you so.” I sat back on the sofa, and stared at the wall in utter disbelief. How is this fucking possible? Have we been fighting for Christmas all these years, and won? But then what the fuck happens in January? I sat there for hours, staring at the wall, trying to make sense of it all. Finally, after hours of contemplation, I decided to do some more investigating. I drove to the nearest town, and walked into the first newsagent I saw. I asked if they had any news on the festive season. The old chap looked at me and said, “It’s officially over now sir.” I asked him what the hell he was talking about, and he said, “The festive season? It’s officially over now, sir.” I sat there in utter fucking disbelief, gentlemen. Stared at the newsagent, as he stared back at me. I asked him to explain, and he said, “Well sir, we’ve been fighting for Christmas for a very, very long time. From the early Christian days, when Jesus was born. Then the Battle of the Bulge in the 40’s, when America took back Colmar. And the many years of commercialisation in the 70’s and 80’s. Well, we’ve finally done it. We’ve won.” I stood there in utter fucking bewilderment. Stared at the newsagent, as he smiled at me. “You see, the festive season is now officially over. It’s officially time to put it all away.” I walked back to the car, and drove back to Shere. I packed up the cottage, and decided to drive to my brother’s house. I assumed he’d have some answers for me. We got there in the early hours, and woke my brother and his family up. Told them the whole story, and asked them what the hell was going on. My brother just laughed and said, “It’s fucking Christmas, mate.” I asked him what the hell he was talking about, and he said, “It’s fucking Christmas.” I asked him to explain, and he said, “Well brother, we’ve won the war on Christmas.” I stared at my brother, as he stared back at me. He said, “Every year, since 1945, we’ve been fighting to keep Christmas. From the Bulge, to the IRA, to the War on Terror. Well, brother, we’ve finally done it.” I stood there in utter fucking bewilderment, as my brother stared back at me. “You see brother, since 1945, we’ve been fighting to keep Christmas. Well, brother, we’ve finally done it. We’ve won.” I stared at my brother, as he smiled back at me. “Every year, since 1945, we’ve been fighting to keep Christmas. From the Bulge, to the IRA, to the War on Terror. Well, brother, we’ve finally done it.” I stood there, stared at my brother, as he stared back. He finally said, “You see, since Christmas 1945, we’ve been fighting against… the other lot.” I asked him who the other lot were, and he said, “The people who want to destroy Christmas.” I stared at my brother, as he stared back at me. “The people who want to destroy Christmas, brother.” I stood there, stared at my brother, as he smiled at me. “The people who want to destroy Christmas, brother.” And that’s when it hit me, gentlemen. The realisation of it all. All these years, we’ve been fighting for Christmas. Not from religion, not from tradition, not from presents or turkey or mince pies. But from… something else. The other lot. The people who want to destroy Christmas. I stood there, stared at my brother, as he stared back at me. He said, “The people who want to destroy Christmas, brother.” And that’s when it hit me, gentlemen. The realisation of it all. All these years, we’ve been fighting for Christmas. Not from religion, not from tradition, not from presents or turkey or mince pies. But from… something else. The other lot. The people who want to destroy Christmas. What are the other lot? What are the people who want to destroy Christmas? The answer is simple, my friends. They’re… the people who want to destroy Christmas after Christmas. And that’s when I fucking realised it, gentlemen. The people who want to destroy Christmas aren’t the IRA, or the Taliban, or the Scientologists, or the atheists. They’re the people who want to destroy Christmas after Christmas. The people who want to put Christmas back in its box, and shove it in the attic. The people who want to take back January 1st. The people who want to put the clock back. The people who want to put back the clocks in autumn, and not change them back in winter. The people who want to put back the days of the week, and not celebrate on Sundays

We've won the war on Christmas.

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