“I don’t do Christmas," he will say, his face pinched with misery. Quite a statement, and one loaded with meaning. To him, Santa is just an anagram of Satan and nothing more. You can deal with this, though, you tell yourself. You can make him adore the festive period – everybody says they hate it, but love it really. You can play him Winter Wonderland over and over. Maybe hang some jingling bells off your privates. And so your denial continues. But as the nights draw in and the Christmas lights start...

Birthdays. Like Christmas, they come but once a year. They break up the calendar a little, and give you something to look forward to, right? You have drinks, catch up with old friends, overload your pals' Facebook news feeds with ever-changing event invitations. Presents are bought and you're showered with cards, right? My birthday, however, is the ultimate failure in celebrations. The Dannii Minogue of my social calendar, my birthday is always overshadowed by its big sister, the one everybody loves - Christmas. Yes, my birthday is two days before...