Not since baby Jesus was born in a manger crowded by farm animals have any of us been so surrounded by manure at Christmas.

With tiers and regulations more up and down than Santa exploring his chimney fetish on the big night (just use the damn door) the only certainty is that your tree will have bigger baubles than our Prime Minister.

Does anyone have a flying reindeer what the hell is actually going on anymore?

Because nothing we’ve been told since ­autumn started has really made any sense at all.

Forget joined-up thinking ­ this lot would have trouble with joined-up writing.

A bewildering array of charts, slides, graphs and scary doctors have done nothing but blind us with statistics that everyone gave up trying to follow months ago.

Mostly because it was out-of-date tosh.

One minute shops are shut, the next they’re to open.

But the bars and restaurants that have spent a fortune ­making themselves Covid secure are allowed to trade for two weeks and then slammed closed again.

Hairdressers were, at one point, deadlier than Kay Burley’s birthday party. Now they’re fine.

Gyms likewise. But heaven forbid you want to go ten-pin bowling or sing a carol in church.

And what is with the word “tier” that it always has to come ­accompanied by the word “plunge”?

Areas of the country can’t simply be “eased” into a different tier they have to be “thrust” with all the violence and threat that gesture entails.

The way that science and language have been used to terrify us this year is abuse on a national scale.

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  Everything you can and can't do in Tier 3 as parts of the UK move up a Covid level

Little wonder that the Samaritans are ­receiving 7,000 calls a day.

Take Death Secretary Matt (Han)Cock’s deeply suspicious decision to announce London’s new lockdown and reveal a “fast growing” variance of coronavirus on the very same day. Anyone would have thunk he was deliberately trying to terrify the living ­daylights out of us. Again.

And isn’t it funny how the gloom always gets served up without any positives?

Why didn’t old doom chops mention it’s entirely natural for a virus to mutate because that’s what they do?

It would be more worrying if coronavirus hadn’t.

Just more scaremongering, pure and simple.

Because when it all goes turkey-stuffed belly up in January guess who’ll be to blame?

Yep, us lot.

Again.

Too stupid to follow rules that make no sense, that are just designed to cover the prissy, pompous ­posteriors of the powers that be.

Clear, honest information delivered with a view to guide, support and encourage are all any of us ever truly wanted this Christmas.

Instead the elderly are treated like infantile imbeciles, the young as serial granny killers and everyone in between with utter contempt.

They tell us how, where and when to walk, eat, drink, socialise, work, travel, enjoy sport even have sex.

Yes, the wearing of masks has seriously been debated for that activity too. And not the leather gimp kind.

I don’t want Bozza and his clowns to patronise me any more.

I don’t want to be on their “nice” list and ­rewarded with a pat on the head and five days of family snuggles for which I am supposed to be eternally grateful.

I want to be treated like the grown-up I am. To be respected. To have the health of me and my loved ones GENUINELY looked after. I am sick, not of Covid, but of being lied to about it.

The ultimate betrayal though is turning this very special, spiritual time of year into a cheap bribe.

Baby Jesus may have been born in a stable in dreadfully uncertain times but at least He had something we don’t. Three wise men.

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