Am I alone in finding the current Meteor phone commercial absolutely infuriating? I’m talking about the one with the carol singers. Maybe it’s my  age or the fact that I wasn’t raised by baboons, but I simply can’t understand why we’re supposed to identify with the inexplicably competitive, horribly bearded wazzock and his mope-faced associates. Here’s the story: three slovenly student-types slope onto the pavement and, with little enthusiasm and less harmonic commitment, began muttering their way through a grudging version of Deck the Halls. Then a much more smartly dressed and infinitely better rehearsed choir arrives and treats the lucky pedestrian to a perfectly charming version of Oh, Tannenbaum.

Celtic Charles Manson, Hugh O’Conor‘s gloomier brother and Gwyneth Paltrow’s severed limb don’t much fancy being shown up in this manner, so they phone a bunch of their equally scruffy, no more well mannered  friends and proceed to drown out the nicely scarved choir with an oikish explosion of rugby-pub bellowing. As the unfortunate Tannenbaumers — too polite to retaliate against the bullies — slope sadly off to a less hostile corner, the victorious gang wave their fists aggressively in the air. What on earth is going on here? I don’t want to overstate my case, but this is how the Nazis started out.  You begin by pushing around a few blameless carol singers and, before long, you’re stomping into the Polish Corridor. Mark my words.