THIS year, I've somehow managed to bodyswerve most of the opportunistic Christmas horrors that I traditionally get sent to review in the run-up to the fateful day itself.

In fact, only two Christmas singles landed on the raffia matting this year. One, weirdly, was Merry Xmas Everybody (Universal) by Slade, which I remember feeling quite agreeably disposed towards when it was first issued in 1702, but which now (like every other Christmas song) makes me want to lash out blindly at everyone and everything and rampage down the carriageway like a malfunctioning automaton.

Luckily I'm a civilised and pathetically meek adult so I won't be doing that - despite the best efforts of the other Christmas single in today's pile, Last Christmas (Gut) by our old friend and evidently invincible bte noire, Crazy Frog.

Forget irony, forget "so bad it's good" and all the other caveats and get-out clauses this kind of thing habitually engenders. The Crazy Frog's sole message is: I'm Insulting Your Intelligence And I Want To Take All Your Money Off Of You While I'm Doing So. The much-trumpeted combination of George Michael and The Frog is, to my mind, the equivalent of being told that I'm about to be run through by a cutlass, but that someone will also be introducing a bag of wasps to my colon while the skewering is taking place.

Ahh, I feel much better now that I've got all that off my chest and colon, and look - the next single in the pile is actually Any Good, namely Love It When You Call (Island) by The Feeling. I'm sure you're all well aware of the song's characteristically buoyant tunefulness already, as it seems to be on constant rotation on the radio stations I favour (Capital Old, Naff FM, Radio Somnolent), so I won't dwell on it. Suffice to say that it sounds like a potted resum of the first Jellyfish album, so I'm smiling all over my puffy face.

Better still is an offering from The Feeling's unassumingly-named labelmate, Scott Matthews. The track in question is called Dream Song (San Remo/Island), and taken in tandem with its two b-sides, A Tale To Us All and Elusive, it constitutes quite the most enjoyable interlude I've tucked under my experiential cummerbund this last wee while.

Scott is from Wolverhampton, not necessarily the first place you'd think of when it comes to producing an acoustic troubadour with the keys to the universe in his soul, but there you go. On the evidence of these three songs, Scott transcends time, place, circumstance and even his own corporeal form. Not bad, then.

Comparisons to Jeff Buckley have been flying thick and fast, but to me he sounds more like Jeff's dad Tim, even if the frequent flutter of his vocals into a falsetto register and Dream Song's sinuous, modal, Indian-inflected melody display clear traces of Dream Brother's influence.

I can well imagine Robert Plant getting into this, and if you share my fondness for the likes of The Incredible String Band and Davy Graham your heart will be gladdened beyond belief to know that there's still someone out there who can summon forth such rare spirits. Wonderful stuff.

Inevitably, it's downhill again after this. The Operated On EP (Relentless) by Scottish electro trio Union Of Knives sounds like the sort of thing Vince Noir from The Mighty Boosh would write if you took all trace of humour out, and Don't Let It Go To Waste (Mercury) by Matt Willis, fresh from his inexplicable "I'm A Celebrity" win, is a chest-beating power ballad, as featureless as a sandblasted face.

After listening to all of this, I thought I'd unwind with one of those new-fangled interactive DVD doodads, in this case The Pop Party Game (UMTV).

Do well enough in the quiz rounds and you "win a pop star to play at your very own pop party". Despite the fact that I'm a good 80 years older than the DVD's target audience, I surprised myself by sailing through the first round with a full set of correct answers - although I admittedly struggled with caring less on subsequent rounds as my attention wandered and I become wholly fascinated with the telly in the other room - specifically Nigella Lawson's mind-boggling assertion that she was going to treat her dinner guests to her "sweet and sticky ribs".

You'll no doubt be delighted to know that I eventually came back to the DVD game and won Nelly Furtado. And Akon. I put them both out by the bins in the hope that someone will have taken them away by morning.