IF YOU THOUGHT that The 12 Days of Christmas was a merry rhyme about the gifts of love, think again. I have just been sent one of those revolting animated e-mails about sex that circulate on the internet — not from some seedy porn website, but courtesy of the NHS.

Entitled “The 12 STIs of Christmas” (that’s sexually transmitted infections to you and me), this public information promo begins: “On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a bug that made it hard to pee.” Then it progresses through a list of seasonal STIs, so that by the ninth day of Christmas (everybody sing along) “ . . . my true love gave to me, genital warts, trichomoniasis, hepatitis, pubic lice, gonorrhoea, genital herpes, syphilis, chlamydia and sores that spread anal-ly”. Perhaps we should be grateful that they used only stick drawings to illustrate their story.

It has become an annual ritual to issue all sorts of warnings about the alleged hidden dangers of having fun at Christmas. These displays of miserabilism are now almost as much a part of our festive tradition as mince pies. The official gruesome tale of seasonal STIs suggests that this could be the worst year yet for Christmas scaremongering. Many people have expressed concern about the extent to which Christmas is being emptied of any mention of Christianity, and there are news paper campaigns to save traditional school nativity plays.

Yet the secular side of our Christmas traditions, as a time to enjoy and indulge ourselves, is also under threat from an army of officials, experts and advisers. The motto of these modern day Scrooges is not so much “Bah, Humbug!” as “Bah, Health and Safety!”, the Christmas spirit they embody less Ho! Ho! Ho! than No! No! No!

It appears that every aspect of Christmas is now a minefield. Shopping for presents? Better watch out for what Westminster Council predictably calls “The 12 Scams of Christmas”, including unsafe kids’ toys and “counterfeit vodka”. Beware the dangers of what personal debt counsellors brand “credit card addiction”. And guard against what some psychologists now call “retail rage”. Forget about your children sitting on Santa’s knee in his grotto. As the child protection charity Kidscape cautions: “You can’t vet all the people dressed as Santa. It’s not worth the risk.” And it seems it’s not only geezers in white beards we have to watch out for — parents are now suspected paedo- philes, too. Even if schools are still staging nativity plays, several councils have again banned parents from filming their children’s shows.

Of course, as grown-ups you are still free to go out for some adult fun this Christmas. Just avoid the scourge of “binge drinking” (ie, don’t have more than a couple of “units”), which experts warn can lead to everything from sexual assault to a stroke.

This year you are also being told to watch out for the many sexual predators allegedly trying to spike your Christmas drinks. “Don’t be tempted to go off with a stranger you have just met,” Suffolk police warn, before the self-appointed chaperone to the women of East Anglia assures us that “we are not asking people to stop enjoying themselves or to stop drinking completely”.

Aren’t they wonderful?

The worst place of all to go for a drink, apparently, is the office Christmas party, now described as “a very dangerous environment” where you could ruin your career, reputation and life. And you thought it was just a boring chore. The Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents (RoSPA) has teamed up with the TUC to issue a checklist of do’s-and-don’ts “to ensure employees only hear jingle bells and not alarm bells this Christmas ”.

Their sensible safety tips include such gems as: don’t dance on the fragile desks (or presumably have sex on them, even with condoms), and don’t “photocopy parts of your anatomy or you could spend Christmas with broken glass in your . . .painful places”. Don’t put out mistletoe, because not only is it a sexual harassment case waiting to happen, but the berries are poisonous. And, of course, don’t smoke — a single fag can start an office fire and “even the jolliest firefighters aren’t going to be in the Christmas spirit if they’re called out to put out a cigarette”. RoSPA says: “We are not being party poopers.”

With all of this apparent danger and strife out there, you might presume that the best way to get some peace this festive season is to close the doors for a family at home celebration. But there is no escape from Christmas miserabilism.

RoSPA advises that “Christmas trees, lights, trimmings and turkeys will be among the things turning seasonal merrymaking into misery and mayhem for thousands of families”. Deck the halls with misery and mayhem, tra-la-la! Its shocking advice reveals that “hot fat, boiling water and sharp knives” can hurt people, that candles can burn, people can fall down, Christmas tree branches can poke you in the eye and “even balloons cause accidents”.

The emphasis in much of this is on the need to protect children. The result, however, is to treat us all like helpless kiddies at Christmas time.