IT'S the annual tradition it wouldn't be Christmas without: a column bemoaning the rampant consumerism of the festive season.

Bear with me, though, I have something for you - luxury advent calendars at up to £369 a pop.

What do you get for £369 in your luxury advent calendar? Allow me. You get 24 hand painted porcelain ornaments from Villeroy and Boch.

If porcelain is not your thing, how about parmesan? There are cheese advent calendars and gin advent calendars. Fortnum & Mason will do you a £125 wooden calendar filled with sweets and chocolate. If you're quick you can buy the Best Sex of Your Life Advent Calendar, currently reduced from £249.99 to £120 and featuring Karma Sutra playing cards, a feather tickler and a pair of handcuffs - everything you need to entertain guests during that lull between Boxing Day and Hogmanay.

Guys, seriously now. Remember the days when you peeled back the little cardboard door to reveal a donkey with an inexplicable heart on its flank or an angel looking beatific? The most excitement came from the double-sized door waiting for you on Christmas Eve.

I remember the second birth of chocolate advent calendars in the early 1990s and the disappointment of not being allowed one until I was in my teens. A daily chocolate shape before breakfast now seems so innocent. I've given some examples of truly grotesque expenditure but there are more modest treat-based advent calendars, helping the phenomenon truly take off this year with beauty calendars leading the charge.

What is the purpose of a daily gift to yourself through December? It's the Christmas equivalent of these hamburgers made with deep fried donuts in lieu of a bun. It's squeezing the absolute last drop of greed from an otherwise reasonable endeavour.

Advent is about anticipation, a slow build up to the main event. Do we now need a daily treat to motivate our behaviour? Are we dogs? And isn't Christmas the treat?

This week a sculpture depicting Jesus as a homeless man sleeping on a bench was installed in Glasgow city centre. I wonder how many people bustling through the shops, laden with disposable plastic extravagances will pause to reflect on their good fortune. I wonder how many notice the increase in rough sleepers outside those same shops as they struggle to carry their spoils.

How many collecting their Marks and Spencers Shellfish Knickerbocker Glories and free-range Pembrokeshire bronze turkey think on how horrendous this time of year must be for those using foodbanks.

It's already difficult enough for families on the breadline to keep up with the Joneses when owning a latest model iPhone and iPad is the bare minimum for every primary school child. Grim enough for any parent struggling financially to keep up with the week-to-week necessities. How soul-sinking it must be to see the onslaught of adverts for toys and games at this time of year and know they are out of reach. How despondent it must make a parent not to be able to provide the Lego advent calender all the other kids in class are opening each morning.

There are enough lectures available about the true meaning of Christmas without adding to them here. Maybe it's time to accept that, for many, the true meaning of Christmas is now unfettered gluttony and consumerism. It's pointless to try to hold the tide against it - the dam is long breached.

I hope not. And hope comes from that other new advent tradition, the reverse advent calendar.

For the month of December, instead of taking, participants give one item - of food or toiletries - and bundle them up to be donated to a foodbank on Christmas Eve. It's not too late to start.