So Saturday just gone was Finnish Independence Day, in itself no bad thing. But instead of being celebrated like any of the other 2,500+ national Finnish celebrations – where you might light three candles and spin twice, balance a slew of berries on one shoulder or answer the door to a torrent of song from young girls in pinafores – Finnish Independence Day sets aside a very special form of torture.

Yes, at 7pm sharp on the 6th December, life as we know it – in Helsinki at least – takes a drastic turn for the worse. For the next three hours any Finn of any note ever forms a black tie line-up to meet and greet the President. And I’m talking any Finn, of any note, ever! Weather girls, lowly politicos, pop idol contestants, Eurovision also-rans, the list is long and nauseating. The action repetitive and self-indulgent.

And far from presenting itself as a sound reason to leave the house or at the very least, change the channel, the majority of Finns I know sit glued to this spectacle. They actually look forward to it and plan little events around it.

Still, you can leave the room, I hear you cry! Normally, without question, but on this occasion I was at one of these little events – a house-warming – where all the action took place in a tight-knit semi-circle around the tele. I was doomed to one hundred and eighty minutes of hellish teev, that is, until I was introduced to the Criminally Bad Elf.

The Criminally Bad Elf was a not a kleptomaniacal escapee from Santa’s Grotto as the name implies, but rather a British barleywine weighing in a hefty 10.5% alcoholic volume. And after a pint of it’s berry flavoured loveliness I could have been the President for all I knew.

So my advice to you when next you’re confronted with a night of local customs that you’d rather flee than endure, invite the Elf and get updates from a friend the following day. It worked for me.