Oh crumbs. It’s on. You’ve taken the bait like a gawping carp. This is what your dad was spoiling for, of course. It’s virtually a tradition. Although you both told yourself that, like the massed forces of war one hundred years ago, there would be a Christmas truce, in truth this has been coming since you walked through the door on Christmas Eve carrying a copy of the new Owen Jones book. Be honest – you only did that to watch him twitch.
So you challenge your father with a boozy retort, call him an old bigot. It comes out a bit slurry. You’re more drunk than you thought. And he’s ready for you. While you’ve been retweeting unsourced gifs and skim-reading articles by Mark Steel to reinforce your vaguely liberal sensibilities, your Dad’s been tuned into the proper news. He says:
“So, do you think it’s right that the EU Treaty, by enshrining in national and international law the need for balanced budgets and near-zero structural deficits, has effectively outlawed expansionary fiscal policy? “
Shit. You thought he was just going to say something insulting about Bulgarians.