Reusable Christmas

I have an idea that will horrify the Christmas industrial complex, confuse the Daily Mail, and mildly irritate anyone who thinks waste is festive. Reusable Christmas crackers.

Yes, I know. Tradition. Paper hats. A bang like a damp mouse being stepped on. A “joke” last written when rationing was still a fond memory. And a plastic widget destined to live out eternity in landfill, long after civilisation has quietly given up.

Every year we buy the same things, pull them apart with a noise that briefly alarms the cat, put the hats on at jaunty angles, groan at the jokes, and then sweep the debris into a bin bag with the turkey carcass and our remaining dignity. It is ritualised waste, dressed up as cheer.

The argument against reusable crackers is always the same. “It wouldn’t be the same.” Quite. It would be better. No more tat designed to be manufactured, shipped, pulled, sneered at and binned in the space of five minutes. Instead, a decent cracker you keep. Refill it. Put something in it that does not immediately ask to be thrown away. A proper joke. A chocolate that does not taste faintly of despair. Maybe even something thoughtful. Radical stuff.

And if we are doing this properly, the cracker itself should be something worth owning. Not shiny cardboard pretending to be luxurious, but an object. Something with weight. Something that survives grandchildren. I am thinking pottery. Glazed. Properly made. Possibly Wedgewood, or at least Wedgewood-adjacent. Blue and white, maybe, with vaguely classical figures who look as though they disapprove of novelty gifts. Crackers you lay on the table and think, “Those are rather nice,” rather than “How quickly can I hide these.”

The bang, I’m told, is essential. Fine. Keep the bang. There is no technical reason why a ceramic cracker cannot go off with a satisfying crack, other than a lack of imagination and a surfeit of inertia. We managed the Industrial Revolution. I think we can cope with a reloadable snap.

The paper hats can stay too, if we must. But let’s be honest, they fall apart if you look at them sternly, and nobody really wants to wear one except out of grim obligation. A reusable cracker could have proper hats. Or none at all. This would be a net gain for humanity.

Of course, the real objection is that reusable crackers would force people to think. To choose what goes inside. To abandon the comforting illusion that Christmas joy comes shrink-wrapped and pre-discarded. That is unsettling. Much easier to buy the same box every year and call it tradition.

But tradition is not doing the same stupid thing forever. It is choosing what is worth keeping. Roast potatoes. Yes. Family arguments. Apparently unavoidable. Plastic landfill filler masquerading as fun. Less so.

Reusable Christmas crackers would still be silly, noisy and mildly chaotic. They would just stop pretending that waste is a virtue. And if that feels un-Christmas to some people, I suggest the problem is not the crackers.