Today we’re talking about Black Friday, Cyber Monday and the absolutely deranged shopping culture we’ve built around them. Two pretend holidays invented to separate you from your money as quickly and efficiently as possible. Two fake events wedged right before Christmas, just in case you weren’t quite stressed, skint or overwhelmed enough already.
Let’s get this straight: Black Friday is not a tradition. It’s not festive. It’s not cultural. It’s a marketing grenade lobbed across the Atlantic that we just swallowed whole without asking a single question. Americans stampede through Walmart for a discounted blender, and apparently the British response was, “Yes, fantastic, let’s do that too.” Because we can’t see an American doing something stupid without thinking, “Hold my pint, I can out-idiot that.”
And Cyber Monday? That’s just Black Friday in its pyjamas. The same scam, just lazier. Two days of corporate theatre where retailers pretend to slash prices while you pretend you’re saving money. It’s like a national delusion we’ve all agreed to participate in because the alternative is admitting we’ve become shopping-obsessed, dopamine-starved lab rats.
Let’s start with the big one – the “deals”. The glorious, earth-shattering deals that apparently justify people waking up at 5am to buy a toaster. I can tell you that the vast majority of the time, the deals aren’t deals. They’re barely even discounts. They’re just numbers rearranged to make you feel less of a mug while you’re being mugged.
Year after year, consumer groups analyse the prices and find the same thing – most items are the same price or cheaper at other points in the year. Which?, the UK’s consumer champion, literally checked hundreds of products and found around eight in ten Black Friday “deals” were the same price or cheaper at other times. Loads of retailers purposely hike prices ahead of Black Friday so the discount looks dramatic and they can call it a bargain. It’s the retail equivalent of me putting this podcast behind a £10,000 paywall for a week then announcing it’s “free” like I’ve done you a favour. It’s bullshit. The CMA has already warned retailers about misleading "reference" / “was” prices and countdown pressure tactics, but clearly no one gives a fuck because the same tricks appear every single year.
They know exactly what they’re doing. They know you’re tired, stressed, and desperate to feel like you’ve “won” something. So they throw out a fake “WAS £199, NOW £99” tag and wait for the stampede. Doesn’t matter that the item was £99 for months. Doesn’t matter that the so-called “deal” is just the normal price with a dramatic haircut. Doesn’t matter that regulators have literally warned retailers to stop doing this – the fines are tiny and the profits are massive.
And don’t even get me started on the psychological warfare. “Only 3 left!” – no there fucking aren’t. “23 people are viewing this item!” – who, your marketing department? “Sale ends in 02:59:12!” – why is every website now a bomb-disposal timer? Why do I need the reflexes of Jason Bourne to buy a kettle?
Nevertheless, incredibly, it works. Every year, without fail, the same people who swear they’re “not falling for it this time” end up quietly ordering an air fryer, noise-cancelling headphones and a beige tracksuit they’ll never wear because “it was such a good deal.” Of course it was. Such a good deal you didn’t even need it.
So let’s talk about why people fall for this crap, because this is where it gets depressing.
We’ve turned consumption into a hobby. Shopping used to be something you did when you needed something. Socks. A charger. A saucepan because the old one died a horrible, burnt-rice death. You bought things with purpose.
Now? Now people browse “new arrivals” for fun. They scroll through deals in their downtime as if looking at shit to buy is self-care. They build wish lists that look like evacuation manifests. They casually check prices on items they have zero intention of purchasing. They watch unboxing videos as if that counts as human experience.
I need to ask a very simple question. Why the fuck would you look at things to buy when you don’t need to buy anything? Why is that a thing? Why is “scrolling Amazon” considered a pastime? That’s not a hobby – that’s conditioning. That’s what you do when your brain has been trained like a dog to crave novelty, distraction and cheap dopamine.
It’s just what we do now, apparently. Feeling bored? Check for deals. Feeling sad? Check for deals. Feeling happy? Celebrate with deals. Feeling nothing at all? Perfect – time for more deals.
And this is why Black Friday and Cyber Monday are such a perfect storm. They give the entire country permission to indulge the one behaviour we’ve been mentally rehearsing all year: compulsive browsing. They make it socially acceptable to sit there flicking through pages of crap like a zombie doing finger yoga.
Let me be clear – there is nothing wrong with wanting things you actually need. There is nothing wrong with waiting for a discount to buy something necessary. That’s smart. That’s responsible.
But most people aren’t doing that. They’re doing the digital equivalent of standing in the middle of a shopping centre shouting, “SURPRISE ME!” and waiting to see which piece of future landfill catches their eye first.
And then, as if all this bullshit isn’t enough, we slam straight into Christmas. There’s barely a breath between, “Massive savings now!” and “Have you bought presents for literally every person you’ve ever met?”
Let’s talk about Secret Santa. Oh my god. Secret Santa is easily one of the stupidest modern rituals we’ve invented. And we didn’t just invent it – we franchised it. One Secret Santa wasn’t enough. No, no, of course not. Now you have to participate in one for your workplace, one for your sports club, one for your friends, one for the extended family, one for your gym class, one for the choir, one for the fucking dog meet-up group. It’s Endless Santa.
And every time it’s the same conversation. “Shall we do Secret Santa this year?” No. “But it’s only £10!” And that’s the point. A £10 budget guarantees one thing – you are going to receive an object destined for landfill before Easter. A novelty mug. A desk toy. A scented candle that smells like anxiety. A box of bath salts even your grandmother would reject.
Everyone hates Secret Santa. Everyone. If you’re not a weirdo. But no one wants to be the first person to say it because apparently opting out makes you the Grinch. Why? Why is saying “I don’t want to buy meaningless tat for a colleague I’ve spoken to twice this year” considered antisocial?
And the performance of it all – that’s the real torture. Sitting in a circle pretending to be thrilled about a novelty hot-sauce set. Smiling politely as you unwrap a “funny” coaster. Doing the fake laugh. The fake gratitude. The fake “Oh wow, that’s so thoughtful.” Thoughtful? It cost £6 and 12 seconds on Amazon. The only thought involved was selecting the fastest delivery option.
Then we reach family gifting. The big leagues. The emotional blood sport of December. And this is where the pressure becomes unbearable.
If you’re buying for kids, then sure. They deserve something magical, unless they’ve been a prick all year. But nowadays, if you don’t buy them the latest £200 gadget, apparently you’re failing as a parent. Christmas morning turns into a TED Talk on economic inequality. Kids comparing who got the better screen. Parents whispering apologies. Absolute madness.
But adults? Adults do not need Christmas presents for fuck’s sake. They don’t. Adults need honesty, boundaries and therapy – not decorative slippers and a bath set. Half the gifts adults give each other are essentially, “I panicked and bought this so you wouldn’t think I’m a terrible person.”
And then there’s the lists. Everyone has a list. The sibling. The cousin. The parent. The partner. The partner’s family. The niece. The nephew. The next-door neighbour because last year they gave you something and now you’re in a lifelong Cold War of reciprocation.
Do you know what most adults want for Christmas? For somebody to say, “Shall we not bother this year?” That’s it. That’s the dream. A Christmas of peace, not panic. A Christmas where you spend time together rather than spending three days clicking “Add to Basket” in a state of rising dread.
And let’s talk about the waste. Not in a moralising, “save the planet” Greta Thunberg way – just in a practical sense.
Returns are out of control. The volume of items sent back after the sales period is astronomical, and a depressing amount of them get destroyed. Not recycled. Not resold. Destroyed. Straight into the bin because it costs too much to process them.
And the packaging. The boxes. The bags. The bubble wrap. The cardboard mountains outside every house in December. Streets lined with evidence of a society that has completely lost the plot. You shouldn’t need a forklift to take out your recycling after Christmas.
All of this – all of it – feeds into the same machine. Corporations rely on November and December to hit their precious Q4 targets. Influencers blast out ‘gift guides’, desperately chasing affiliate clicks before the algorithm finally decides their videos are, in fact, shit. Retailers fine-tune their marketing funnels to watch you hesitating and then nudge you over the edge with “Extra 10% at checkout!” just as you were about click away.
And who benefits? Them. Always them. Amazon shareholders do great. Retail chains do great. Marketing departments do great. Everyone at the top of the pyramid has a wonderful Christmas.
Meanwhile, ordinary people just trying to do their best are exhausted. Mentally. Financially. Emotionally. The average person spends December juggling guilt, obligation and Klarna payments. They finish the holidays with an empty wallet and an even emptier sense of meaning.
And for what? For WHAT?!! To buy things nobody remembers by February? To prove to people you love that you love them? To participate in rituals you resent?
The truth is you don’t owe anyone gifts. Not adults. Not strangers. Not colleagues. You are allowed to say no. You are allowed to opt out. You are allowed to prioritise your sanity over the social pressure to exchange meaningless items.
If you want to get someone a gift because it genuinely means something – do it. That’s beautiful, thoughtful, real. But the rest? The forced smiles, the mandatory gift swaps, the panic-buying of tat – that’s not generosity. That’s obligation dressed up as festivity.
We need to do away with this bollox. We need a collective decision to stop being fucking idiots. Let’s try the following:
Stop buying shit you don’t want for people who don’t need it. Stop joining every Secret Santa like it’s a moral duty. Stop pretending Black Friday is anything other than a psychological pickpocketing. Stop letting marketing calendars dictate your emotions. Stop scrolling through deals like it’s a personality.
If you want to give people something, give them time. Attention. Help. A meal. A conversation. Something human. Not a novelty gift set that’ll collect dust for 18 months before quietly disappearing during a spring-clean.
And if someone thinks you’re selfish for not drowning them in gifts? That’s their problem, not yours. Your love isn’t measured in parcel deliveries. Your worth isn’t measured in gift receipts. You are not Santa Claus. You are a person with a life, a budget and a right to sanity.
So this year, try something new – honesty. Say, “Shall we not do gifts this year?” Say, “I don’t want to join Secret Santa.” Say, “Let’s keep it simple.” Say, “No.”
Because here’s the secret the corporations don’t want you to realise: If you need a calendar event to tell you when to show love, you’re already lost. If you need a sale to feel something, you’re already trapped. And if you need a shopping cart to fill a void, the problem isn’t the price – it’s the void.
Black Friday and Cyber Monday aren’t celebrations. They’re symptoms. Symptoms of a culture that can’t sit still, can’t think straight and can’t cope with boredom without adding something to a basket.
Let it go. Take a breath. Buy what you need, not what an algorithm whispers in your ear. Give because you want to, not because you’re scared of disappointing someone. And for fuck’s sake, stop scrolling through deals at 1 AM.
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