November. All the Halloween costumes and fireworks have been packed away. Now's the time to join the human dodgems on Saturday afternoons hunting out that perfect gift that, only two days after Christmas Day, will be half the price.

I'm sure those of you that will be wearing tasteful tune-playing ties or experiencing your annual dose of infidelity at your Christmas "Bash" will be doing it to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Spare a thought for that innocent little newborn in his manger when you're being humped in a cubicle in the men's toilets by Kevin from accounts, as people bang impatiently on the door. Or when you're having your zip slowly lowered in an alleyway by a kneeling Maureen (the cleaner, who you wouldn't normally take a second look at - but it's Christmas!).

My bitterness is just a cover for my real and increasingly less likely aspiration of being the "Chandler" character in my very own version of Friends. We have loads in common, I never tire of their company, we laugh a lot and I know that they're always there, waiting to comfort me with their wit and wisdom when arrows of sorrow and despair pierce my soul.

To be a purveyor of cynicism is to be forever lonely, angry and dissatisfied. I'm off to watch I'm a Celebrity... It's great fun. And my friends will be joining me later for what, I hope, will be another hilarious night in.