It’s 4am. Instead of Robbie Williams’ ‘Angels’ or Oasis’ ‘Wonderwall’ you hear the melancholy piano intro of ‘Fairytale of New York’. You grab the closest person, thinking you don’t care who you grab. But you do. It’s your fattest, sweatiest person in your vicinity. You can leave now but then you won’t get to enjoy the track. So succumbing to your fate you throw your head back and howl ‘CAME IN EIGHTEEN TO ONEEEEEE’. Drawling the rest of the first verse, you wait for the beat to kick. All of a sudden you’re transformed into an Irish dancer, you and your mate twirl around, singing to each other in the best Irish accent you can muster. It’s a shit attempt. He’s spitting in your eyes as he’s screaming ‘YOU SCUMBAG, YOU MAGGOT, YOU CHEAP LOUSY FAGGOT’ but don’t worry you’re doing the exact same to him, you disgusting sweatball. The only consolation is that you’re not as drunk as Shane McGowan when he recorded this song.
