HOW early is too early for Christmas?

Any time before December 1 if you ask me. But it's possible I am alone in this.

I was in Tesco last month. Yes, I'm the person who's still shopping there. Why? Inertia mostly. Anyway, having sized up the frozen veggie meals, I turned around. Facing me was a whole aisle of Christmas stuff - Christmas cards, Christmas chocolate, Christmas decorations, Christmas crackers too probably (sorry, I didn't take a list. Lazy of me). "Bit early," I said to a passing Tesco worker. "Yeah. And we've actually got to take them down next week to put out all the Hallowe'en stock." They're back now.

I know, I know. Moaning about Christmas starting too early is probably very 1893. At least. Probably back in 10AD people were grousing about the fact that Frankincense gift sets were on sale in Middle Eastern markets at the start of September.

But it is a bit rum, isn't it? All these early-onset Christmases we have landed ourselves with. Next Saturday - November 8, note - Channel 5 is showing Christmas movies all evening. Why?

The Christmas TV adverts have started. There are Christmas windows in some shops. It can't be long now until we start hearing Noddy Holder screaming "It's Christmas" every time we pop into the garage for a paper and a bag of Monster Munch (do Monster Munch come in turkey and cranberry flavour by the way?)

Admit it, in recent years, come December 25, aren't you just a teensy bit bored with the whole thing? Even the heathens among us might now consider going to church on Christmas morning because it means we won't have to listen to Chris Rea's Driving Home For Christmas on the radio for at least an hour.

All this Christmas hysteria is a sign that we are nearing the end of capitalism, I reckon. Everyone is squeezing the pips out of the annual spendfest before something else comes along and kicks it into touch. A return of feudalism probably. (How long before the one per centers tells us that we can't have Christmas day off any more? 2018? 2020?)

Of course I realise that by writing this column I am myself guilty of perpetuating further this pre-festive Christmas splurge. You were probably happily just getting over Hallowe'en and here I am reminding you that it's only 53 days to Christmas. Turns out I am not part of the solution. I am part of the problem. Yesterday I even found myself whistling The Pogues' Fairytale of New York. That's me off Santa's list.