Published on December 18, 2023, in The Spectator
It’s that time of year. The sound of a Silesian bratwurst connecting with cold lips. A security guard gets aggy with the actor playing ‘the elf’. Ketchup sprays into the air like celebratory champagne. Spilled mulled wine inebriated the local rat population. Overpriced tat is sold in gift box form to drooling tourists.
It’s Christmas market season. A confusing month of crowded streets and impulsive shoppers. But Christmas markets have nothing to do with Christmas. They did once. They do it in Germany. But these markets, the central city cesspits, are nothing more than shoddy farmers’ markets in tinsel.
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