On Christmas Day you can't be sore. Your fellow man you must adore...

...there's time to cheat him all the more, the other three hundred and sixty four.

See, Christmas doesn't have to be all schmaltz. It can have hints of black. (Not that I'm endorsing the idea of cheating our fellow men throughout the year.)

Today I can't be sore either - friends and neighbours round for lunch. Am I feeling just the tiniest bit hassled? You bet I am!

For your delectation, some Tom Lehrer - who wrote the rhyme above. I don't suppose he celebrated Christmas. Too busy poisoning pigeons in the park.

Except, he mostly does it in the spring...

Have a schmaltz-free day!