Like many of you, as soon as Christmastime swings around, I play Jingle Bells, I put up a fir tree and I drown the house in tinsel, lights and decorations.
Like many of you, I put a wreath on the door, I wrap presents for my loved ones and I might even pinch some mistletoe and holly.
Like many of you, I grew up on a Christmas movie diet of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, Love Actually, A Christmas Carol.
But as far as I’m concerned, that’s where our similarities end.
And that’s a problem. Because (faith aside) there is nothing – NOTHING – more important at Christmas than food. Glorious food.
I’ve been living in your country for eight years. I’ll never forget the first time you told me turkey was not on the menu on December 25.
Instead, you eat seafood. Food from the sea. Prawns. On a ‘barbie’. This is unholy stuff. My jaw hit the ground and plunged toward the centre of the earth. I’m still in recovery.
In case you missed it, darling Australians, this is the one and only time of the year you have an excuse to buy a bird so enormous, it could easily eat up the entire length of your arm.
Not only is it the most delicious roast beast you will ever eat, it is biologically designed to send you into a blissful food coma. The meat is full of
magic the amino acid tryptophan that actually makes you sleepy.
Have you ever watched a Chrissy movie where a family pulls open their crackers, pops on those colourful paper crowns, cracks those lame jokes and munches on some shrimp?
No. Because that would be WEIRD. (Post continues after gallery.)