“For goodness’ sake, will someone please, PLEASE turn off Noddy Holder?!” – said everyone over the Christmas period.
The harsh, nasal whine of Noddy’s unashamedly Brummy accent rings out from every boozer from Bermondsey to Belfast; it’s in your car, it’s in your living room, it’s at your office party. It’s in your head. It won’t leave. His face appears everywhere staring vacantly out at you and you wonder ‘Does he really wish it was Christmas every day..?’Â
Whether he does or not (he doesn’t) he certainly sings it with enough grating conviction for it to stay with you until you close your eyes in bed to sleep – but sleep never comes, does it? Just more of those jangly guitars and Noddy’s puff-ball ringlets bobbing around your subconscious until you realise it’s 7.30AM and you need to go to work.
If it’s not Noddy then it’s sure to be George. And if it’s not George, it’s probably Chris Rea. Or QUEEN!?
Ugh.
But then you realise ‘Hold on a minute..I only get reacquainted with these guys once a year. Isn’t there some room in my heart for the ‘classics’? Can I let myself be charmed by their synth-y 80s nonsense again? OH I TAKE IT ALL BACK!’ whilst flailing some pineapple and cheese on a stick in one hand and a snowball  in the other, dashing to Primark to buy a really bad Christmas jumper (from their ENORMOUS selection) and ending up drunkenly screaming “DRRRIIIVIN’ HOME FOR CHRISTMAAAAAAAASSSSSSsss!!..DA DA da daaa DA DA DAAAA”.
Just for when this moment happens – make sure you pop on this playlist. It’s totally suitable.