When Muslims are asked what Eid is, the easiest answer is: “It’s like the Muslim Christmas.” Hence the recent repetitive used of 'Merry Eidmas' by a certain someone. The three days of celebration marking the end of Ramadan have arrived, and Eid, specifically Eid ul-Fitr, is here. Having spent the previous month in fasting, prayer and self-restraint, the joys of Eid include simple pleasures like enjoying a daytime meal with friends and family. However, every year the cries go up that Eid celebrations are beginning to look more like Christmas. These voices of doubt should remain unheeded: Muslims in Britain are unlikely to truly emulate Christmas because, for better or worse, we have our own way of doing things.

There are of course similarities. Like yuletide, Eid has turned into a glorious excuse for gluttony. Vast quantities of rich foods are consumed, as if to desperately make up for the moderation of the previous month. New clothes are worn and Eid decorations are hung. There was even a minor trend of sending Eid cards, before texting took over. Of course, that certain someone is still continuing the trend. As for Santa, we have no shortage of overdressed bearded men in flowing robes keeping odd hours and dispensing presents on Eid. We like to call them Abu Eid, for humour.

Also like Christmas, family members who live in different cities make the pilgrimage home to celebrate, although in planning these gatherings some Muslims use cutting-edge communication tools and multitasking skills to organise themselves...

Eid, like Christmas, extends beyond the familial sphere. Some local authorities recycle Christmas lights as Eid decorations, while others have bespoke moon- and crescent-shaped gaudy wreaths hanging off lampposts. Eid is starting to go mainstream, the trend being led by companies luring the Muslim pound. Perhaps the strangest is Ikea, which in 2003 launched a sweet if slightly disturbing Eid catalogue in which a generic normative suburban Muslim family sat with their Ikea tablecloths living the "Muslim dream".

But unlike Christmas, for most Muslims the spiritual aspects of Eid have not diminished entirely. Masjids have their busiest day of the year, with the congregational prayers arranged in shifts to accommodate the extra worshippers. Then there are the traditions of giving charity to the poor, visiting the sick, paying respects to the dead and taking in folk who would otherwise have a lonely Eid.

There are in fact at least two Eids per year: Eid ul-Fitr, at the end of Ramadan, and Eid ul-Adha, the “festival of sacrifice” that marks the end of the hajj – as well as a few other minor Eids here and there. Then there is the annual controversy of when Eid will fall. It gets earlier every year due to the lunar calendar, and to add to the uncertainty there are different traditions about the ways of determining Eid: some like to see the new moon and others use a calendar date – not to mention the nuances in the different schools of thought. In short, there is no consensus among Muslims and our 'Pythonesque' absurdity has become institutionalised.

Perhaps even more bizarre are the specific British Muslim innovations, such as Eid club nights and boy racers waving their national flags up and down the ethnic high street. Or, as I saw in an advert recently, “Why not make your way to the Eid Party in a stretch limousine?” Nothing marks the end of fasting, the spirit of self-control and empathy with the poor better than a stretched Humvee with disco lights and minibar.

Eid will always be different from Christmas because Muslims are so different from each other, let alone from Christians. Despite the uncertain timing, logistics, excess and piety, fundamentally Eid is a celebration, and meant to be fun. Merry Eid-mas – whatever you are doing tomorrow, the day after, or whenever.

This article was published in the print edition of the Guardian on 19th September 2009. Page 33, if you are looking.