So you paused for a breath post-Halloween and somehow, according to the relentless march of the consumerism calendar, it is now – three days into November – time to get Christmassy. How do we know that the starting gun has been fired on the festive season? Because the John Lewis advert has arrived with all the usual yuletide fanfare. Strike up your favourite mournful cover version of an old classic!

In the past two decades or so since the good old JL Christmas ad somehow became a cross between a major cinematic event and a kind of national temperature check, we’ve had a lovelorn penguin, a lonely old man on the moon, a dog bouncing on a trampoline and a big-eyed fire-breathing dragon.

So what has 2026’s offering brought us, then? Kristin Scott Thomas as a glamorous granny with enviable housing stock! John Lewis ads may not always be the most relatable – they’re selling a cosy picture of upper-middle-class comfort after all, with a dash of escapism and a smattering of tear-jerking emotion.

The advert arrives just weeks after a gloomy report suggested that British households are almost £3000 worse off thanks to five years of pressure on living standards. Which is why, in a winter where we’re all wondering how the hell we’re going to heat the homes that we can barely afford to rent or pay the mortgage on, or being told to stock up on tinned foods in case of apocalypse, this one feels utterly out of step with the nation’s mood.

Let me explain. Scott Thomas, as luminous as ever, is plumping the cushions in her stunning home before her daughter and two grandkids turn up for some Christmas celebrations. She shouldn’t have bothered – the grandchildren are, shall we say, full of energy, and manage to make a mess of her perfectly decorated home in moments. And they’re not remotely interested in the pull-along toy dog that Granny Kristin has retrieved from the attic (another bit of extra square footage!) to try and occupy them.

Said toy dog, who for some reason is voiced by a chirpy Paul Whitehouse, then tries to dissuade Kristin from the unimaginative but tried-and-tested trick of simply sticking some cash in their Christmas envelopes, by dragging her on a festive journey through the city that involves a rickshaw (I think we can safely assume that Dame Kristin Scott Thomas has never travelled in a London tuk tuk in her life – I’m not sure I can ever forgive JL for making her even pretend to do so).

The next day, it’s time to unveil the gift she has fashioned for the grandkids – she’s transformed one of her spare rooms into a disco rave cave decked out with tinsel and disco lights! Because the true meaning of Christmas is knowing how to tastefully stage the surplus space in your gargantuan home to try and pacify the rowdy youngsters with some single-use plastic decorations!

Of course, I am not suggesting that the John Lewis team should have refashioned their ad last minute to bring us some semi-apocalyptic vision of Scott Thomas filling the basement of her stunning townhouse with some bougie tinned goods in time for 25 December, or that they should have got Ken Loach in as director (although I would watch the hell out of that particular deleted scene).

And yes, you could well argue that we need a dose of optimism this winter, to distract us from the prevailing sense of doom. But could we not have had some kind of concession to the fact that this festive season is going to be a real squeeze for the majority of us (even the John Lewis middle classes)? That it might not look as shiny and sparkly as Christmases gone by – and that’s OK? You could still spin out a vaguely heartwarming festive message and also nod towards reality.

But instead we’ve been given a strange parallel universe fantasia, where the biggest problem facing the nation’s families is decking the halls in a way that will appease some vaguely ungrateful grandkids. You can only imagine just how galling it will be for a struggling parent who has to watch this play out during every TV ad break from now until Christmas Eve, while attempting to do the maths on how to account for the cost of their pared-back festivities.

Anyway, call me Scroogish if you will, but let’s be frank – the best gift that this John Lewis granny is going to give her slightly uncouth descendants one day? Passing on the spoils of her property portfolio.