The Tung's 3 Step Christmas Playlist Programme

I'm not going to lie to you, readers, I'm feeling pretty festive. I've drunk approximately 500 mulled wines, I've spent the last two weeks stretching my stomach for the big day, and right now I'm genuinely wearing a red and green colour combo on purpose. Sure, I still haven't bought a single present, but in terms of Christmas cheer I am there.

I don't really know how it happened. It's been an imperceptible and incremental shift, presumably in much the same way as I'll unknowingly gain weight over the next two weeks until, as if from nowhere, my jeans won't fit anymore. I've turned into Mrs Claus in 10 days without noticing and I'm pretty sure it's thanks to the Christmas music blasting from every single shop right now. It's been a bit of a shock to the system to be honest, so I'm here to help you lean into Christmas through a three step musical programme. 


Alright, so here we are. You've left it a bit late, but we can get you to where you need to be. Hang in there, champ. 

I'm starting you off with Christmas-adjacent or anti-Christmas songs only, most of which are dark and sad like your presently joyless heart.

I particularly recommend this starter-pack if cuffing season passed you by and you're bummed out about it. We've all been there, pal, you'll get through it. 


At this point you should be warming up to the idea of this whole Christmas thing, but let's keep things relaxed, I don't want you to pull a muscle. 

This is a comfy middle-ground for those who aren't ready to hear Mariah just yet, but are willing to entertain the idea that snow is not just splats of rain conspiring to make you fall and crack your head open on the way to work.

Hear that? It's the sound of your heart thawing. 


Well hello there, friend, welcome to the party. Have a seat by the fire and rest your weary feet, you've come a long way. 

These Christmas crackers (sorry) are best enjoyed with a bottle of Tesco's finest fake champagne, fifteen trays of Iceland filo prawns, a profiterole tower and the knowledge that you're probably about to snog someone deeply inappropriate underneath the mistletoe that's actually a bit of basil your mate draped around the lamp shade earlier. Crack on!

Follow Anna on Twitter @annaerichmond