4) Whitney Houston - I Will Always Love You (1992)
There can be no argument about this one. Dolly Parton wrote it as a tearful farewell to her former partner Porter Wagoner when they split. It MEANT something. Then Whitney took it, produced all the life and feeling out of it, and sang it as if she were calling lifeboat men to duty. There is, as you know, a difference between singing and bellowing. It's an important distinction in this case because, Houston, you have a problem.

5) Rick Astley - When I Fall In Love (1987)
It seems unfair, does it not, to dig poor Asters up after all these years, just to give him another drubbing? But Christmas is a time for looking backwards and laughing out loud. And, though it most certainly wasn't funny at the time, this was surely the most boring Christmas Number One of all time. Rick was so incredibly faceless, so utterly lacking in any personality, and the track was chosen so deliberately to succeed at Christmas. People say Kraftwerk were machinic and soul-less, but the Rickster had NO FEELING at all.

6) Boney M - Mary's Boy Child (1978)
They seemed so perfect. Three glorious Amazons with their bumbling friend, kicking out groovy monsters like Daddy Cool and (ma ma ma ma) Ma Baker - tremendous stuff, a welcome addition to a scene enlivened by punk. Then they lost it spectacularly, went for the big bucks, and this, a cover of Harry Belafonte's 1957 Chrimbo hit, was their lowest point ever. Where was the sexiness here? Nowhere - that's where.

7) Dickie Valentine - Christmas Alphabet (1955)
Seldom can a song be described as an enemy of civilisation as we know it, yet this is definitely one. Back in 1955, by appearing in the popular movie The Blackboard Jungle, Bill Haley's Rock Around The Clock threatened to change music for good, by making it much better. But Dickie was having none of it, and his wet 'n' whimsical Christmas Alphabet knocked Haley off the top during this all-important Chrimbo period. Bizza, thank God, topped the charts again in January, but it was a close thing. Dickie nearly killed rock'n'roll outright.

8) The Beatles - Day Tripper (1965)
During the Sixties, those loveable Mop Tops were often at the top come December 25th. I Wanna Hold Your Hand was there in '63, I Feel Fine in '64, Hello Goodbye in '67. But they never had the decency to write anything remotely Christmasy for the occasion, did they? OK, OK, people do like to hold hands at that time of year, and people do tend to feel fine, but that's hardly the point. Where are the bells, the sweet melodies, the tearful tales that have us blubbering into our mulled wine? In short, where's the spirit of Christmas? No, it's telling that 1969, when Rolf took Number One with the awesome Two Little Boys, was the year the Beatles began to fall apart. They would not see another Christmas.

9) Paul McCartney - Mull Of Kintyre (1977)
He would, of course, try it on later with the appalling Frog Chorus, but McCartney's most audacious and antisocial musical crime ever was this one. It can be summed up in one terrible word - BAGPIPES! Yes, BAGPIPES on Top Of The Pops! BAGPIPES! Plus, the extraordinarily annoying sight of Macca and Denny Laine strolling through the glens, happily strumming away with no guitar leads at all. For many, it was the first time we realised that They Were Having Us On.

10) Mr Blobby - Mr Blobby (1993)
He was pink, he was polka-dotted. He ran around and fell over a lot. He hung out with Noel Edmonds. He knocked Take That and Robbie Williams off the top. Yes, millions HATED Mr Blobby, and Christmas '93 remains unmatched in terms of the bile that poured towards the charts. But there are a few good reasons why the Blobster is only Number 10 here. For a start, wasn't he, like Johnny Rotten before him, a genuine outlaw? He may have hung with Edmonds, but wasn't that just a means to an end? Wasn't that just how he got to crappy minor celebrities, so he could soak them and smash into them, knock them down and roll on them, and generally humiliate them? And he did DO that - their faces often showed true embarrassment, fear and pain. While we sat on our arses complaining about how everyone is famous for 15 minutes these days, Blobby was NAILING these talentless clods. How we need him now! Wouldn't it be SO BRILLIANT to see Blobby, covered in yellow goo and without fear for anyone's safety, diving headlong into the panel of judges on the X Factor? And the music, well, let's face it, neither The Prodigy nor Motorhead ever came up with anything as unsettling as that ear-splitting screech of "Blobby! Blobby! Blobby!", a blood-curdling shriek from the far end of panic. Actually, this should be in the GREATEST Christmas Number Ones chart! Blobby forever!