Christmas: that grand guignol of glitter and gluttony, where hope sparkles faintly beneath the weight of burnt offerings disguised as festive roasts, and the tree – poor, bewildered thing – leans precariously, festooned with last year’s regrets. It is not so much a holiday as a theatrical endurance test, complete with mince pies masquerading as joy and squabbles simmering hotter than the mulled wine. But salvation, true salvation, lies not in matching pyjamas or a victorious game of charades – it is corked.

Forget the frenzy of stocking fillers bought in desperation, the cloying fug of brandy butter, and the ritualistic thermostat wars. This year, don’t endure Christmas – conquer it. Your arsenal? Wines that don’t just accompany the meal but rise above it, a glorious Bacchanalian coup d’état.

On the day’s wine list, champagne, the liquid empress, its effervescence a triumphal march announcing the day’s decadence. Not just any bubbles will do – this is the time for something grand, something with a pedigree to match its panache.

Then, an émigré Nebbiolo, brooding and brilliant, the guest at the feast who makes everyone else seem a little duller. It’s a wine which doesn’t so much pair with food as seduce it.

Finally, sherry – the most underrated of heroes – a salty, razor-sharp wit in liquid form, cutting through the pudding’s overcooked pomposity and quelling familial tensions before they flare into outright war.

And so, as the candles gutter and the pudding ignites, as the cat claws the Baby Jesus from the nativity scene, take a moment. A glass in hand, a knowing smile. This isn’t just Christmas; it’s a masterpiece of absurdity, and you, with your chosen wines, are the conductor of this magnificent mess…

Light the touchpaper; let the festivities begin…

Taittinger Folies de la Marquetterie (£56, thefinestbubble.com) isn’t a champagne for the faint of heart. It’s the sort of bottle that expects its drinkers to have a decent vocabulary and the nerve to use it. Born at Château de la Marquetterie, a den of Enlightenment-era debauchery and wartime intrigue, it’s afloat with notes of white peach, nectarine jam and brioche so exquisite it warrants a Michelin inspection. Its elegant oak finish confers, ‘I know I’m better than you,’ but in the most beguiling way. Serve it to your sharpest guest – or drink it alone in a corner while the family argues over the Mayfair Monopoly deeds.

Then there’s Taittinger Comtes de Champagne Blanc de Blancs 2013 (£148,  thefinestbubble.com). A lesson in hubris made from Grand Cru Chardonnay harvested in a petulant vintage, which miraculously turned golden just in the nick of time. Aged for nine years in chalk cellars which rival cathedrals, it detonates, appropriately, with a whiff of silver fulminate, then confit lemon, jasmine, then what we imagine crushed jewels might taste of. Luminous and layered, it may be best saved to be burst on New Year’s Eve, once the children are asleep and the adults can toast the promises they’ll inevitably break in the opening act of 2025.

White light, white heat…

English sparkling wine has rightfully become a source of national pride, while Flint Silex Chardonnay 2023 (£26.99, flintvineyard.com) exemplifies the transformation of the still wines, too. With a flinty edge and poised finesse, this Norfolk-born white, topped up with red grapes, is so polished it probably holidays in St-Tropez. Layered, poised, and smug enough to make Burgundy blush, it’s the wine to pour for your least exasperating guest.

For those who relish a challenge, consider Weingut Werlitsch Ex Vero II 2020 (£51, oranj.co.uk), a wine so wilfully contrarian it might as well come with a manifesto. This rust-coloured renegade, a biodynamic blend of chardonnay and sauvignon blanc, spends languorous days on its skins, then brooding months in ancient oak barrels, emerging smoky, floral, briny and gloriously defiant. It’s abrasive, yet irresistibly captivating, like a rogue poet at a genteel dinner party. Serve it to the guest who smugly proclaims they’ve ‘tried everything’, then stand back and watch as their certainty crumbles, glass by wonderfully challenging glass.

Code red…

California brings unexpected brilliance to Christmas with Clendenen Family Vineyards’ appropriately titled, Nebbiolo ‘Bricco Buon Natale’ 2009 (£58, wanderlustwine.co.uk). The late, great Jim Clendenen, known for redefining Californian pinot noir and chardonnay, poured his heart into this festive Nebbiolo, which bursts with wildflowers and raspberries before revealing layers of dried cherries, violets and star anise.

From Italy, Mai Dire Mai Valpolicella Superiore Pasqua 2015 (£37.95, jeroboams.co.uk) cranks the volume up to 11. Dense, rich, it’s a riot of black cherries, mocha and spice. With acidity sharp enough to restore your will to live, it’s your best ally when relatives start reminiscing.

Château Haut-Brion’s younger sibling, Quintus 2016 (£140, millesima.co.uk), is Saint-Émilion’s velvet-clad prince. Forged from the union of Châteaux Tertre Daugay and L’Arrosée, it delivers dark fruit, smoky pipe tobacco, and whispers of slate within its luxurious palate. This is a wine for grand speeches… and midnight confessions.

Sweet surrender

As a dessert wine, Mas Amiel Maury 1999 (£78, shop.lescaves.co.uk) is a wickedly indulgent grenache noir, its almost 16% ABV wrapped in a robe of dried figs, liquorice, walnuts and cocoa-dusted spices. Born from a bishop’s ruinous hand of cards in 1816, this sun-scorched estate matures its wines outdoors in glass demijohns, where the ferocious Pyrenean light forges decadence into every drop of dark chocolate, kirsch, plums and a hint of cigar box entombed in velvet. It’s the devil-may-care cousin at the table.

Port isn’t a mere drink; it’s a commandment, and Graham’s Quinta dos Malvedos Vintage Port 2019 (£33.99, waitrosecellar.com) is gospel. From the sun-soaked terraces of Malvedos comes a brooding blend of black fruit, dark chocolate and mint. Polished by Douro Valley neo-wizardry, it’s a hedonistic hymn to patience, perfect for fireside musings.

The uprising…

Sherry often gets relegated to the punchline of Christmas drinks, mostly because people insist on embalming themselves in nostalgia. However, a well-placed and precise stroke of Xérèz fortified wine can be just the invigoration you need at Christmas. Enter, then, Tío Pepe Fino Saca 2024 Release, a sherry with a switchblade (£19.50, leaandsandeman.co.uk). Unfiltered, raw and practically punk rock, it’s as sharp as a paper cut. The colour of olive brine, it bursts with a whiff of kerosine, apples to tempt in the garden of Eden, and pulverised chalk, slicing through your post-lunch stupor.

This year, don’t just drink – imbibe, revel and above all, prevail. These bottles aren’t merely drinks; they’re defiance, salvation, and the purest form of festive rebellion. Merry chaos, and may your glass never run dry.