Merry Christmas. Please Leave.

Christmas is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. So why does it feel like a full-time job nobody agreed to take?

The presents aren't wrapped. The family group chat has become a planning committee. The supermarket has been playing Christmas songs since October. And the guests who promised to stay for just an hour appear to have moved in permanently.

Welcome to Christmas as an adult.

In Merry Christmas. Please Leave., Emrick Donvell delivers a brilliantly relatable, laugh-out-loud exploration of festive overload, family expectations, awkward gatherings, and the everyday absurdities that somehow become Christmas traditions.

Through twenty sharply observed chapters, this funny Christmas book takes readers through the familiar madness of the holiday season, including:

• The financial consequences of Christmas shopping and impossible gift lists.
• Family gatherings where everyone has questions about your personal life.
• Secret Santa disappointments, matching pyjamas, and compulsory festive enthusiasm.
• Overcrowded kitchens, holiday travel disasters, and family games that test everyone's patience.
• The exhausting art of hosting guests who simply refuse to recognise that the evening has ended.

But beneath the dry humour and painfully familiar situations lies a reassuring observation: loving Christmas doesn't mean enjoying every minute of it.

You can love your family and still want some peace. You can appreciate holiday traditions while questioning who invented them. And you can be a generous host while looking forward to the beautiful moment when everyone finally goes home.

Written with warmth, wit, and an unmistakably adult perspective, Merry Christmas. Please Leave. is ideal for readers who appreciate observational comedy, funny essays, family humour, and the wonderfully ridiculous side of the festive season.

It also makes an entertaining Christmas gift for friends, relatives, hosts, introverts, exhausted parents, and anyone who has ever declared, "We're keeping Christmas simple this year," only to discover that absolutely nobody was listening.

Because sometimes the greatest Christmas present isn't another gift under the tree.

It's a quiet house, a comfortable chair, and the unmistakable sound of the front door closing.

Merry Christmas. Please leave.