Don't they know it's Christmas?

'Happy Christmas habibi!', said my colleague Ayman as he firmly shook one of my hands and pressed a cheese sandwich into the other. He had brought it from home as a Christmas gift.

He knew it was Christmas. And he's Egyptian. So apart from his own muslim holidays he also has the confusion of the orthodox christian Christmas to remember in a couple of weeks time.

Our tea boy didn't know it was Christmas. He chose today to display particular joys of the season by reporting me to my boss (again) for using a Ministry of Interior coffee mug. A ceramic item that has achieved almost idolatry status in the office kitchen.

The Mattawi know it's Christmas. And they're not happy about it. They are the Saudi religious police, or to give them their full title, The Committee for Virtue and the Prevention of Vice. It is they that patrol the streets ensuring that all women wear an abeya and that all the shops close five times a day so as not to distract anyone from prayer.

Rumour has it that the Mattawi have stepped up patrols in the period leading up to Christmas to prevent any outward signs of celebration being shown. As with Valentines Day anything red is deemed inappropriate and shop window displays are particularly scrutinized.

In Riyadh on the streets and in the shopping malls there is no sign whatsoever that today is Christmas day. I doubt that there is any other country in the world that is (at best) so ambivalent to Christmas as Saudi Arabia is. Perhaps North Korea? South Korea has promised to call off their annual 'carol service' this year. Every Christmas they blast South Korean christmas carols northward from strategically placed loudspeakers on the border. They have cancelled this years annual Taunt Fest in due deference to the passing of Kim Jong (I told you I was) Il.

The upside of losing the Dear Leader and with it no doubt being plunged into a catastrophic famine killing millions while the countries resources are channeled into the manufacture of new statues is that they'll be missing out on this particular human rights violation.

My taxi driver didn't know it was Christmas. He was from Kashmir. As we fought our way through the Riyadh evening rush hour traffic the street traders wandered perilously in and out of the moving cars trying to sell phone cards and roses. The roses today were yellow and not the usual red. Perhaps they were wary of the Mattawi.

The bell boy at my hotel knew it was Christmas. We get on well. He rushed across the foyer to shake my hand wishing me Christmas greetings before adding (rather unnecessarily) 'Not much celebration sir'.

But I know it's Christmas and at least I won't need to sleep off the cheese sandwich in front of the Queen's speech tonight.

Happy Christmas everyone.