IT is now obligatory, on visiting a Christmas market, to pronounce it ‘hell’, ‘hellish’ and that Beelzebub himself was operating the churro stall. Here are some key differences worth noting:

A distinct lack of torture

Every vision of hell involves torture of the medieval kind. At a Christmas market the pain is limited to crowds, aching feet and paying 25 quid for a f**king candle. The distinction between this and having a hot poker thrust up your arse is pronounced. If you sincerely can’t tell, have a think about your grasp on reality and sexual options.

You can’t get out of going to hell with a lame excuse

Flu, a decorator coming round, needing to plump the cushions; there are plenty of believable excuses for not going to a Christmas market. You can’t fib your way out of hell. Medieva

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