Over the last several years, it has become a bit of a Christmas eve tradition for my wife and I to watch Billy Bob Thorton’s ‘Bad Santa’. It’s a hilariously irreverent Christmas comedy and a welcome relief to the usual seasonal saccharine. For some reason, I thought it might be time to include our thirteen-year old son in on this ritual. My reasoning was that he has started to watch some edgier comedies (including “Dirty Grandpa’ which he saw with a mate) and that despite all the swearing and sexual references, ‘Bad Santa’ does end up with the typical Hollywood feel good ending. So the three of us sat down this Christmas eve and watched BBT drink, puke, steal and fornicate while dressed as Santa. I’m not great at remembering specific details of movies so was not only surprised by the frequency of the bad language but the depravity of BBT’s Santa. My wife made it as far as the anal sex scene with a plus size woman in a department store change room before deciding she’d rather go to bed than watch such a scene with her son. I was forced to soldier on, enjoying it but perhaps slightly less so because of the presence of a child who only a few years earlier still believed in the magic of Santa. So after this once Bad Santa gets gunned down just as he’s starting to come good, I asked my son what he thought of the movie. “Good. It was cute.” Not the reaction I expecting.