Having your birthday at Christmas is the worst thing ever

I’m sick of being overshadowed by Jesus

As you tuck into your turkey this Christmas, spare a thought for those less fortunate than yourself.

I’m talking about those who suffer from “Christmas birthday”, a devastating and incurable condition whereby someone’s birthday is overshadowed by the holiday season.

I’m one of those who struggle this time of year with this particular first-world problem.

Our memories of childhood birthdays are unfortunately seen through tinselly spectacles, soundtracked by The Pogues and smelling like Christmas pudding and disappointment.

When I tell people my birthday’s the 23rd of December, I’m met with a look of sympathy. It’s like I don’t even have a birthday at all.

“Do you still get two sets of presents?”, they ask, meaning well but ultimately consigning me to the dustbin of life because of what it says on my driver’s license.

Peace and goodwill to all men. Except us.

Peace and goodwill to all men (except us)

Yes I do get two sets of presents, my parents didn’t deliberately plan when they’d have me as a means of saving a few quid every year.

There are those select few who do unleash an annual “joint present” on me though – and they make me sick.

December 23rd is an entirely different day to December 25th, and yet I’m still overshadowed in the birthday stakes by Christ. Bloody show-off prick. He may have 12 disciples, but I’ve got over 400 twitter followers so fuck him.

As I mark my yearly celebration of not dying, people are re-watching Die Hard, stuffing themselves with chocolate and crucially, not giving a shit about my birthday.

Archie Winnington-Ingram, whose birthday falls on the 24th, shares my torment.

The History second year at Glasgow, said: “While I am trying to get excited about my Birthday, no one shuts up about Christmas. I don’t care about your fucking Christmas jumper, your tree and that disgusting eggnog you are trying to ram down my throat – it’s my birthday.”


Our pain is real

This kind of pain and misery is nothing compared to the unimaginable despair of being born on the 25th.

The internet tells me 172,000 children are born on Christmas day every year.

Isaac Newton and Chris Kamara are notable examples, but since neither of them would talk to me, I tracked down some normal people with extreme ‘Christmas birthday’.

Birmingham War Studies student Daniel White shares his special day with Jesus.

The 19-year-old said: “What annoys me is my dad commenting on my conception being ‘far from immaculate’, or making other Jesus based jokes all year round such as: ‘If a Christmas birthday makes you Jesus, then don’t forget my son, I’m fucking God’.”

In the face of such horror, it’s amazing that Daniel can still cope. Please raise a glass of mulled wine to him this year.

To be fair, he can turn wine into water

To be fair, he can turn wine into water

There are some positives though.

Archie said: “It’s quite cool that everyone is excited and it’s my birthday. I get to be excited about both Christmas and my birthday at the same time. I also get to be with all my family for my birthday so they can’t get away with buying me shit presents.”

Dan adds: “Having a birthday on the 25th fits perfectly with my messiah complex. Trust me, I’m an excellent specimen.”

Despite Dan’s bravado, Christmas Birthday sufferers are the nowhere men of the season of goodwill.

We’re freefalling through the cracks of festivity, pushed to one side like the Brussels sprouts and Nan’s love-letters to Nigel Farage. There’s just something unnatural about having leftover birthday cake after christmas dinner.

Not that you even care, you normal-birthday arseholes. Merry Christmas.