Christmas is supposed to be the season of joy, togetherness, and goodwill. But let’s face it—most of us spend December stumbling through a minefield of festive blunders. From burnt turkeys to board game bust-ups, it’s a season of well-meaning disasters. And the strangest part? We never learn.
We make the same mistakes year after year, as if the tinsel in our brains erases all memory of last year’s fiascos. So, let’s take a closer look at the 12 most common Christmas mistakes—the ones we repeat with the stubbornness of a turkey that just won’t defrost.
Does this sound familiar, how many did you manage this year, or is it just us?
1. Forgetting the Batteries
It’s Christmas morning. The kids tear into their gifts, joy fills the room, and then… disaster strikes. That shiny new toy? Completely useless without AA batteries, which are conspicuously absent from your junk drawer. You’ll frantically raid remote controls, only to realise you’ve stolen the TV’s lifeblood.
You’d think we’d learn to stockpile batteries. We don’t. This happens every year, and every year we swear, “Next time, I’ll be prepared.” Spoiler alert: you won’t be.
2. Misjudging the Turkey’s Size
The turkey is either a colossal beast that could feed a small army or a pitiful bird that barely feeds your family of four. There’s no middle ground. Worse, it’s usually frozen solid until 10am on Christmas morning, leaving you Googling “how to defrost a turkey quickly” with rising panic.
But do we adjust? Of course not. The cycle of turkey chaos continues, because tradition.
3. Volunteering to Host
“I’ll host Christmas this year,” you chirp in November, filled with the hubris of someone who hasn’t yet remembered the horrors of hosting. Fast forward to December 25th, and you’re juggling overcooked sprouts, undercooked potatoes, and family members who think helping means standing in your kitchen, offering unsolicited advice.
By the end of the day, you’re on the brink of a breakdown, vowing never to host again—until next year, when the cycle begins anew.
4. Eating Too Much
The festive food coma is as predictable as a mince pie at a carol service. You’ve stuffed yourself with turkey, inhaled half the cheeseboard, and decided that yes, you can manage one more mince pie. You can’t.
But instead of showing restraint the following year, you dive back into the feast with abandon, as if your waistband hasn’t suffered enough.
5. Wrapping Gifts in a Panic
You thought you had enough wrapping paper. You didn’t. Now it’s Christmas Eve, and you’re frantically wrapping gifts with newspaper, leftover birthday paper, or—if you’re truly desperate—kitchen foil.
Every year you promise to buy extra wrapping paper. Every year you fail. At this point, it’s a Christmas tradition in itself.
6. Underestimating the Power of Sprouts
Brussels sprouts: the most divisive vegetable of all time. You cook enough to fill a trough, only to find that nobody eats them. Except, of course, for the one family member who insists on a sprout with every forkful, just to prove they “like them.”
Will you cook fewer next year? No. Because, like a Christmas tree, a mountain of uneaten sprouts is part of the décor.
7. Starting a Family Board Game
You thought a game of Monopoly would bring everyone together. Instead, it’s a lesson in how quickly family ties can unravel. Uncle Dave is hoarding hotels, Aunt Sue is accusing him of cheating, and someone’s stormed off because they didn’t pass Go.
And yet, despite the annual fallout, you’ll suggest Scrabble next year, hoping for a different outcome.
8. Leaving the Lights Tangled
Last year, you swore you’d pack the fairy lights properly. Instead, you shoved them in a box like a ball of festive chaos. Now you’re untangling knots that would baffle a sailor, all while muttering threats at inanimate objects.
We never learn. The same mess awaits us next December.
9. Drinking Too Much Baileys
It starts innocently enough: just a small glass to toast the season. But Baileys is deceptive. Before you know it, you’re three glasses in, weeping over The Snowman, and declaring it the best film ever made.
The next morning, you wake up with a sugar hangover that feels worse than any tequila-fuelled night out. And yet, come next Christmas, the Baileys flows again.
10. Last-Minute Shopping
You had weeks to buy gifts. Weeks. But here you are on Christmas Eve, battling through crowds like it’s the January sales, grabbing whatever’s left on the shelves. Socks for Dad? Sorted. A questionable bath set for Mum? Perfect.
You’ll vow to be more organised next year. You won’t be.
11. Forgetting to Label the Presents
You thought you’d remember which gift was which. You were wrong. Now you’re staring at a pile of identical boxes, trying to guess which one is the power drill and which one is the perfume.
Next year, you’ll label them. Next year, you’ll also forget.
12. Overcommitting to Christmas Plans
You agreed to host, attend three carol services, bake for the school fair, and make personalised gifts for everyone. By Christmas Eve, you’re burnt out, questioning why you thought you could pull off the holiday equivalent of the Olympics.
But despite the exhaustion, next year’s calendar will look exactly the same.
The Moral of the Story
We might tell ourselves that this is the year we’ll get it right: the batteries will be ready, the Baileys will be rationed, and the turkey will actually fit in the oven. But deep down, we know the truth. Christmas isn’t about perfection—it’s about tradition. And sometimes, tradition means repeating the same mistakes with unwavering dedication.
So, here’s to another year of festive fiascos. Because, let’s face it, they’re what make Christmas memorable. Cheers!
James Henshaw is a brooding Geordie export who swapped the industrial grit of Newcastle for the peculiar calm of Lincolnshire—though he’s yet to fully trust the flatness. With a mind as sharp as a stiletto and a penchant for science-tinged musings, James blends the surreal with the everyday, crafting blogs that feel like the lovechild of a physics textbook and a fever dream.
Equally at home dissecting the absurdities of modern life as he is explaining quantum theory with alarming metaphors, James writes with the wit of someone who knows too much and the irreverence of someone who doesn’t care. His posts are infused with a dark humour that dares you to laugh at the strange, the inexplicable, and the occasionally terrifying truths of the universe—whether it’s the unnerving accuracy of Alexa or the existential menace of wasps.
A figure of mystery with a slightly unsettling edge, James is the sort of bloke who’d explain the meaning of life over a pint, but only after a dramatic pause long enough to make you question your own existence. His wit cuts deep, his insights are sharp, and his ability to make the surreal feel strangely plausible keeps readers coming back for more.
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