It’s christmas. Woopdeedoo and loop de loop and all that. Yes, that’s right, since you all asked so fucking nicely, we didn’t bother to do a video this week as it’s the festive season and is therefore all about building up your hopes in order to dash them.

In fact, we’re so set on driving you all to distraction that we’re going to have Christmas specials every week now because that’s exactly what christmas is all about. Incessant disappointment until you eat so much chocolate and drink so much cheap sherry that you may as well check into Dignitas on Boxing Day.

Still, euthanasia aside, it’s always best to start the Christmas period as early as possible because that’s where you make the most money and since all of you dribbling gits out there in internet land believe that the Christmas period can only officially begin when the Coca Cola advert has tugged its way around your heartstrings, we decided to start as soon as they do.

Really early.

Christmas adverts take a few very set, very distinct and very dull paths. They either play to your sentimental side like Coca Cola or John Lewis, they play it for laughs like DFS (no, they really are) or they traipse out some washed-up celebrities in order to point at them and shout, “LOOK! THESE CELEBRITIES ENJOY CHRISTMAS AND THAT MEANS IT’S OKAY FOR YOU TO HAVE A NICE TIME AS WELL!”

That is unless you’re a child, in which case the advertising is still shouting at you but it’s more likely to be saying, “YOU WILL FORCE YOUR USELESS PEON PARENTS TO BANKRUPT THEMSELVES BUYING THIS TOY THAT YOU WILL PLAY WITH A MAXIMUM OF FIVE TIMES BEFORE IT BREAKS AND IS FORGOTTEN ABOUT IN A BOX! THERE IS NO SANTA CLAUS! BUY OUR PRODUCTS!” It’s a tough lesson but it’s one that children should learn from an early age.

Some adverts actually go out of their way to combine all these elements into 30 second mini-dramas with a narrative and a heart and real, genuine drama. Step forward, Very.co.uk.

Drama. It opens with a Sergio Leone/Ennio Morricone duel close-up. The forlorn strings of a guitar warble out in the distance. The slightly odd sight of two television presenters going up against the Il Duce of Christmas himself is completely offset by the sudden sense of tension…

…oh, what’s that hyper-irritating version of ‘Anything You Can Do…’ doing there?

In an effort to explain the sudden appearance of this jaunty brainworm, spokesmorons and celebrity bum-chums Holly & Fearne are quickly shown beating Santa at his own game of counter-intuitive housebreaking. Where Santa seems to fail is that he can’t just wander through someone’s front door at 8 in the evening.

Why?

He’s not bloody famous, that’s why.

Besides Fearne thinking she can ‘bring back’ a hairstyle that looks like a ploughed field, they’re showing him up by interacting with a family. It’s cosy, it’s sentimental. That’s where TV presenters and Santa Claus differ you see, Santa Claus isn’t a self-praising narcissist. If they really wanted to do Santa’s job better than him then they could do worse than to disappear from existence in a puff of smoke, becoming a lie that parents tell their kids so that they don’t grow up to be self-involved twat baskets.

Look at that family mocking santa claus. “He’s not even real!” they mockingly cry as the poor old bastard tries to stuff a wooden train under their smart-price christmas tree. Holly and Fearne look on with derision. Humour. Sick, sick humour. How can he ever hope to gain the thanks of millions of children all over the world with his paltry offerings of wooden toys, handmade with love and affection by tiny little people than Ricky Gervais thinks are hilarious? None of these things are a Nintendo 3DS (CHILDREN! YOU WANT A 3DS!)

Dirty tactics! That’s what it is. Holding back the poor, decrepit old man who just wants to finish his annual paper route without being held back by two tarts with a glorified catalogue. Sure they might have more presents than ol’ Sanity Clause himself but do they have the magical powers to skoot round the earth delivering presents like they’ve just inhaled a kilo of amphetamines and broken the face of Bernard’s watch?

Of course they don’t. They’re bloody TV presenters! TV presenters can just smile and read from an autocue. They can’t even drive that van. They had to get the cameraman to move slightly to the left because Fearne Cotton just sat staring at the pedals like a brain-damaged horse. There’s no magic there.

So what’s the outcome? Have the spokesmorons actually managed to upset the balance of Christmas forever? Will the festive season ever be the same again? Does their defeat of Santa mean that Fearne Cotton & Holly Willoughby will become an ethereal, fictional presence that children make macaroni images of in primary schools?

FIND OUT IN PART TWO!

So, it’s the weekend. You’re off work and away from the evils of school. What’s the best possible thing to do with your free time? If you’re the Dillon family, then looking at sofas seems to be just that.

Bugger off theme parks and paintballing! It’s all about the thrill of walking around an empty shop that always has a sale on.

Granddad wants a leather sofa because he’s a bondage fanatic. Gran wants leather and fabric because she likes to experiment. Sam asked for red and Suzie wanted flowers. Dad told them to piss off as he’s buying the bastard thing and won’t pay over £600 for something that cost £40 to make in China. Mum’s even tighter and won’t go over £300. The cheesy salesman rubbed his hands as he sold them something that’ll collapse and break just as the warranty expires.

But that doesn’t matter! In a year’s time they’ll be back for more comedy adventures in DFS when Sam gets his hand stuck down the back of the sofa and Granddad meets his mistress at the checkout.

At hecklerspray, we’re always up for a knees-up. Even if we’re not invited, we’ll at least try to crash various parties until the police are called.

The next major party on our calendar is that of our lord saviour Jesus Christ. When he was born on December 25, not only did he know he’d be worshiped by millions, but he’d have to die for our sins. Sorry about that Jesus – we didn’t mean to squash the neighbour’s cat when reversing down the street.

Instead of it being called Jesus day, that day is often referred to as Christmas. While we use it to chomp on dry turkey, multinational corporations use it as a tool to promote their badly-made product.

Bearing in mind that it’s only just November, DFS are already telling us to buy quickly so they can deliver an Italian three-piece suite to our house in time for Christmas. Last time we checked, sofas and Jesus had nothing in common. That’s unless he was a greasy Italian man who made chairs and talked in a funny accent while eating pizza.

This advert isn’t the worst one we’ve seen on TV, but the fact that Christmas is being whored out to us now is nothing short of depressing. Every year Christmas seems to be arriving that little bit quicker. Expect Easter eggs to be prominently displayed from the 2nd of January 2009. You know, so you can buy early and save precious pennies.