Six things for sad singletons to say when they go home alone this Christmas

OFF home for Christmas? Still unloved? Pre-empt the inevitable pitying comments from your family with these phrases:

‘Yes, I’m still f**king single’

The absence of another person should make this obvious, but you’re still better off announcing your depressing relationship status immediately to avoid any confusion. For all your gran knows, your rich and sexy new boyfriend could be getting your things out of the car, even though you arrived by train and you’re lumbered with baggage like a pack mule.

‘Trust me, I’m not being picky’

Before it’s suggested you’re being too selective, reassure them that your standards could not be lower. But having panned through the dregs of humanity on Tinder in search of love, all you found were Andrew Tate wannabes and militant vegans ‘not looking for anything serious right now’ It’s not your fault that’s all there is going.

‘I am aware of my biological clock’

It’s understandable for your mum to wonder if the thought of giving her grandchildren has ever crossed your mind. It’s less understandable for her to voice this thought every single time she thinks it. Reassure her that the prospect of your eggs running out has been plaguing you as well ever since she last mentioned it, which was two minutes ago.

‘My ex was a lot weirder than you knew’

Sure, your apparently wonderful ex appeared charming and lovely on the surface, but behind closed doors they got up to some seriously f**ked up shit. Never mind the weird roleplays and their disturbing political beliefs, mention how they used to hang the toilet paper the wrong way round. Your family will be so disgusted they’ll never bring them up again.

‘Yes, I am straight’

Nobody has the balls to question your sexuality openly. It’s 2022 after all. But your siblings and cousins will be silently judging your new undercut and dress sense in search of answers to their suspicions. Make it clear that you haven’t turned, you’ve just failed to attract anyone of the opposite sex, which is something they’re free to mock without fear of getting cancelled.

‘This is my new dog!’

Unveiling a surprise puppy will distract everyone from your tragic, lonely existence. Questions like ‘who’ll look after you when you get old?’ and ‘how’s the divorce going?’ will go left unsaid because there are cute paws and floppy ears in the room. Either that or your canine will underline how you’ve given up on human connections altogether, which is understandable.

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The traumatic atrocity of your nan's trifle: your vegan cousin's layer-by-layer guide

HAS your cousin become a vegan since last Christmas? Here’s how they will cancel your beloved nan’s traditional Boxing Day trifle layer-by-layer:

Chocolate sprinkles

As the trifle arrives in the glass dish that allegedly belonged to your great-great-great grandma but actually came from a car boot in 1987, your cousin is already eyeing it suspiciously and asking whether those chocolate sprinkles are fair trade? This leads to a delay in serving as she delivers a tedious lecture on equitable trade relationships. Your grandad nods off.


Your cousin sniffily asks whether it’s vegan cream. Your nan is nonplussed and your brother says ‘I hope not, that oat shit tastes like arse.’ Your mum tells him off for swearing at the table but then concedes that non-dairy cream is vile and also does not whip properly. Your cousin counters that animals shouldn’t have to die for humans to have the correct consistency of cream. Your dad rolls his eyes.


The good news is that your nan used Bird’s custard powder, which is vegan, but she mixed it with milk, which isn’t. She also added real vanilla, which, as is discovered under intense questioning from your cousin about its provenance, didn’t come from a sustainable source. Auntie Carole asks if we can just eat the bloody thing, please, because the Strictly special is on in ten minutes.


‘Enjoy your boiled pig tendons and cow hooves,’ your cousin sneers as the trifle is finally slopped into bowls and being consumed. You make a particularly big deal about slurping the jelly up, just to piss her off. Your nan tells her to stop sulking and eat her vegan ice cream. And she’d better enjoy it because it cost a bloody fortune.


Your cousin comments on the selfishness of eating strawberries in December and starts ranting about food miles. Your nan listens calmly and then hits back with the news that they were grown in their own garden and frozen in August. Your cousin is speechless, while your brother yells ‘mic drop!’ and excitedly wakes your grandad up to tell him about the sick burn.

Ladyfinger biscuits

Uncle Roy indulges in a bit of light innuendo by saying how much he loves a ladyfinger, the same as he does every year, and your cousin gives him an earful about sexism. As she starts to question whether the consumption of a confection named after female body parts represents the pinnacle of patriarchal oppression, everyone else leaves the table to get another drink.