Photos by Stewart Dillon

To go out without a hat or gloves is to endure extreme physical discomfort/pain but it is a common sight to see men (and to a lesser extent women) walking around without hats, clutching their ears because they do not wish to disturb their hairstyles. They deserve full marks for style but zero for stupidity.

Still winter is one of my favourite times in Harbin simply because I can emerge from the Christmas period relatively unscathed and unscarred. Even in Harbin, home of the human donkey (those people who are working to push back the definition of hardship), I cannot escape completely but at least, at the end, I do not end up wishing I could volunteer for one of Shirley Jackson's lottery numbers.

It is not the English transformation of Christmas into a month-long exercise in greed, excess and overindulgence that repels me so much; there is nothing you can teach the Chinese about materialism. I agree with George Monbiot that Christmas is bad for one's mental health but even if Christmas were banned I would still have to live through the Chinese Spring Festival which in its own way is just as bad as Christmas.

What makes Christmas intolerable for me is its lack of originality. Christians (if there are any left in England) may not like to accept it but "Christ's Mass" has all the originality of a Shaun Hutson novel.

I do not intend to go into the origins of Christmas in depth but one word should suffice for this article: Romans. Do any research into Roman religious beliefs and festivals and you can't help but see the similarities. Three things in particular catch the eye; the cult of Mithras (a.k.a. Mithraism) Sol Invictus and Saturnalia.

Haven't you ever wondered why Christmas Day is on the 25th of December? You might have thought that if God loved us so much He would have moved it to a better time of year; maybe He was worried it would clash with Glastonbury.

Christmas in Harbin may be a diluted version but it is growing ever more popular (mostly with young people) and may one day even rival the Spring Festival if not in cultural value then certainly monetary.

Long suffering readers of this column (all 3 of them or 4 if my mother's dog has finally learnt to read) may recall that my apartment is situated across the road from a branch of McDonald's (note the positioning of the apostrophe please). Being McDonald's I fully expected them to join in the Christmas spirit and they have not disappointed me.

	Stewart Dillon

Not only do they have a beautiful Christmas tree but lovely stars to hang upon it. These stars are made of paper and are given to customers to write their Christmas wishes upon. In the true spirit of Christmas I too was given my own star by a smiling member of staff. Fusing my rudimentary Chinese with her (much better) English we were, for the briefest moment of time, able to cross the cultural chasm that is Harbin, as though we were kindred spirits unwillingly forced to spend eternity apart but reunited for one glorious instant.

If only all fast food outlets could match McDonald's in their decorations. I have never been able to erase the memory of last Christmas when I happened to go to a pizza place. Their principal decoration consisted of a jolly Father Christmas crying 'ho ho ho '. This was all fairly innocuous in a tacky way until one saw them from the back (an unavoidable occurrence given their profuse number and positioning).

Seen from the back one saw not the kindly benovelent figure beloved of children and Coca-Cola adverts but a primeval fertility god, a priapic presence endless crying 'oh oh oh' in an eternal pounding peaking climax of sexual debauchery. Whilst there is nothing wrong with fecundity figures (James Ellroy would undoubtedly have called it "beaucoup hung") it can put you off your deep pan Hawaiian.

Lost, drowning and gasping in the horror of undesired memory, I almost forgot to mention my McDonald's Christmas wish. It was for peace, compassion and respect for all the world's people regardless of race or religion.

In this spirit of international goodwill I shall be the global village caroller (I wanted to be the idiot but George W. Bush had already been given the job), knocking on people's doors, disturbing them during their favourite soaps and demanding money for singing one or two songs - badly.

Despite what some may perceive as an article filled with endless cynicism I would like to wish anyone reading this a sincere Happy Christmas.

Remember; a friend is for life not just for Christmas. Unless of course your friend happens to be the genius at the Carphone Warehouse who decided it would be a wonderful marketing idea to parody the RSPCA's Christmas campaign. If that person is your friend and since we are in the Christmas spirit why not borrow another idea from those wonderfully inventive people the Romans and throw your friend to a pack of wild animals?

Christmas needs new blood, a rejuvenation of its customs and traditions and since it was lifted wholesale from the Romans we should maintain consistency.

Who needs three daily doses of Who wants to be a Millionaire? when we could be watching tiresome, sanctimonious and hypocritical public figures being executed in barbaric ways? Who needs Celebrity Big Brother when we could have Celebrity Decimation?

This beautifully simple yet compelling idea takes as its basis the Roman punishment for mutinous soldiers. One soldier in every ten would be selected and executed as an example to the others.

Just imagine; ten public figure picked by a popular vote and then, every week, one executed until only one remained. The only problem I foresee would be how to pick just ten - the royal family and the British cabinet alone would exceed that number. Maybe it's time to bring back It's a Royal Knockout - omly this time the knockout would be permanent.

If that ever happened even I might be tempted to spend Christmas in England - just don't knock on my door while I'm glued to the box. Merry Christmas.

(Copyright © Stewart Dillon 15.12.02.)

Stewart is a journalist and english teacher living in China.

You can contact him at stupaud@yahoo.com