If I ruled the world

If I ruled the world we would celebrate Christmas in German. For 24 hours across Britain, it would become law to collectively wrestle with umlauts, to drink Riesling and to eat our bodyweight in gingerbread thrice over. We would speak like Germans, think like Germans and eat like Germans.

Warum? Well, I love Germany. I have travelled all over the country and think its contribution to civilised life is woefully underrated. This is the land of Brecht, Goethe, Kant, Einstein and Mozart. It gave us the hamburger. The frankfurter. Krautrock!

Think of modern-day Germany and what springs to mind? Bratwurst? Bier? Berlin stag weekends? Its image is a travesty that needs correcting—by me. All world leaders have their pet projects. Thatcher had the Falklands; Clinton had Ireland; Blair had Cherie. McDonald will have Germany. Give or take a few spiritual details, the Germans practically invented Christmas. In 1841, inspired by memories of his childhood in Saxony, Prince Albert popularised the Christmas tree in Britain. We might as well take our lead from him.

The Germans invented the advent calendar. In 1863, a German-American cartoonist, Thomas Nast, turned a skinny, clean-shaven Santa into the fat, bearded one we know and love. The world’s favourite carol, “Silent Night,” was written in German—albeit by the Austrian Joseph Mohr (and the tune was knocked off by his compatriot Franz Gruber in a couple of hours).

Germans are renowned for loving order and efficiency. This means that Christmas shopping is normally complete by mid-July. So on Christmas eve (which is called Dickbauch in German) instead of dashing round Lidl hastily buying own-brand mince pies, the Germans are at home smugly quaffing Glühwein (mulled wine). Dickbauch (literally “fat stomach”) is the main day of celebration and traditionally suckling pig is eaten, whilst on Christmas day roast goose is favoured. What’s not to like?

And it is not just about meat and jolly traditions—even the words add to the magic. With the possible exception of Welsh, German is the most maligned language in the world. I should know, I spent seven years maligning it at school, scraping a “C” at A-level—a grade my teacher considered “a bloody miracle.”

Our misplaced linguistic hostility is nothing new. Back in the 16th century, Charles V, the Holy Roman emperor, said: “I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men and German to my horse.” Fortunately his prejudice and my academic failings have not prevailed. Among the guttural grunts, the spittle-inducing syntax and the baffling use of indefinite articles in the German language, I can hear the poetry.

Mark Twain once said, “Some German words are so long that they have a perspective.” He was right. The Germans have an endearing habit of stringing words together to form a new one. Their longest word is Donaudampfschiffahrtsgesellschaftskapitän—which translates as “Danube steamship company captain.”

With this in mind, and with the help of Countdown’s Susie Dent (fluent in German), I would create a new Christmas vocabulary. For example, falling asleep during the Queen’s speech would be Währednderqueensansprachenickerchen while fighting over the last toffee penny in the Quality Street tin would be werbekommtdieletztequalitystreetpralinekampf.

My plan is no political flight of fancy. It would be good for Britain. As our special relationship with America dwindles and the axis of global influence moves eastwards, we need to think laterally about the benefits of Christmas in German. Not only would it improve trade relations and our political clout in the EU, but never again would we suffer the indignity of nul points in the Eurovision Song Contest.

I expect a backlash from the obvious quarters: Ukip, the plum-pudding fundamentalists, the Only Fools and Horses faction. But as history tells us, what marks out an exceptional leader from a run-of-the-mill one is vision. And, after all, it’s not as outlandish as suggesting, say, Christmas in Kurdish, which although more politically correct would be a lot less fun.

So, the bottom line is that Christmas in German would be compulsory. There would be no referenda, no opt out-clauses and no appealing to the European Court of Human Rights.

Enforcement may be difficult at first, and perhaps a more pressing concern is the inability of anyone in Britain to speak German. But these are mere lumps in the giblet gravy. All that stands between us and a linguistically-lovely, culinarily-splendid and refreshingly different Christmas—not to mention unprecedented Anglo-German amity—are outdated and moribund prejudices. Shed them my friends and join me in celebrating this Christmas in German. Frohe Weihnachten!