The Night Before Christmas

Posted by Tim Ireland at 24 December 2008

Category: Humanity

This entry was posted on
Wednesday, December 24th, 2008
at
4:50 pm and is filed
under Humanity.

The Night Before Christmas (Tabloid Edition)

by Tim Ireland

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the House
Not a creature was stirring, except for this louse;

The shocking news hung like a fart in the air,
That something caught knickerless soon would be there;

The MPs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of peerages danced in their heads,

But stalking the halls, and consulting his map,
Still came the intruder; this unwholesome chap,

Who sniffed at them all and their law-making chatter,
Who judged himself best to know which judgments mattered.

Now quickly he dashed as he caught a quick flash,
In pursuit of the knickerless, offering cash!

The moon came out next and then footprints on snow,
The knickerless attempted escape down below!

Then, round and down corners and what should appear?
A knickerless front! No! A knickerless rear!

Attached to that bottom, so lively and quick,
Was a knickerless target… that knew it was nicked.

More rapid than ever he pursued his game,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called the thing names;

“Now, Dasher! now, Runner! now, Zippy and Speedo!
You Scumbag! you Maggot! you Faggot and Paedo!

I know what you are and my bum’s to the wall!
Now suck on my! suck on my! suck on my balls!”

(Such messages mixed, and made on the fly,
Presented no obstacle; heaven knows why.)

So up to the House-top the runners they flew,
The unwholesome chap, and the knickerless too,

And then, in a twinkling, they fell off the roof,
Into the chavs and the have-nots and yoof!

The unwholesome chap’s eyes darted around,
As down fell the knickerless, down to the ground,

“Kick it!” he yelled, “Before it kicks you!
If Jesus were here, He’d be kicking it, too!”

A bundle of knives were then plunged in its back,
As the knickerless was bent down and facing the sack,

It eyes — how they darted! so startled! so trapped!
When facing the sack and this unwholesome chap.

(Its sad little face was then put on show,
And ironically entitled “Mind how you go.”)

The stump of its limb was chewed on by teeth,
Its ear was chewed off with some dead woman’s grief,

They chewed off its face and its heart and its belly,
They shook and they laughed when they watched it on telly!

They cheered and they paid the unwholesome chap,
For this freshly spun story of deeds and mishaps,

For the wink of his eye and the twist of his words,
And the signal that’s silent but needs to be heard.

He bowed to the crowd, and returned to his work,
(He works for himself, so he works for a jerk),

And laying his finger inside of his nose,
He waved about cash and where most of it goes,

Then sprang to his feet, and shot off like a missile,
To the thundering sound of a million dog whistles.

But I heard him exclaim, as he shot out of sight,
“Mob justice for all (except me) and good-night!”

Have a safe and merry Winterval, and please don’t drive if you’ve had a few. Cheers all.








2 Comments

  1. Professor Paul says

    Here's a Professorial reply.'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding theannual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence,kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of thispotential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Musmusculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of thewood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasureregarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist amongwhose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respectiveaccommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visualhallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically throughtheir cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal headcoverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darknesswhen upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascendedsuch a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrityfrom my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise sourcethereof.Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealingthis fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliancewithout, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystallineprecipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridianitself – thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs tobehold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eightdiminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule,aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantlyapparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With hisungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been morevertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferatedloudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, andaddressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen – "NowDasher, now Dancer…" et al. – guiding them to the uppermost exteriorlevel of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish theconcatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved – with utmostcelerity and via a downward leap – entry by way of the smoke passage. Hewas clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue fromoxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the wallsthereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to theplethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodiouscloth receptacle.His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillarydermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. Thecapillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged withblood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating thecoloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium,or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing somuch as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornmentappeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose greyfumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestiveof a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it washigh, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal regionundulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemisphericalcontainer. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund,multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visiblyfrolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidlylowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly toone side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling theaforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementionedarticles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previouslydorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task,he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit inlateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his craniumforward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected hisegress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He thenpropelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed amusical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to theantlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in amovement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portionsof a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audibleimmediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits ofvisibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and tothat self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriouslybeneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset anddawn."Merry Christmas to you & yours from me & the dog!

  2. Sim-O says

    Very good gentlemen.I've got nothing to offer in return except, to wish you a very good Christmas and a new year that is better than the one that is leaving us.

  • External Channels

  • Page 3 Politics

    Page 3: a short history

  • Main

  • Archives

  • Categories

  • Twitter

  • The Cautionary Campfire Songbook

    The Cautionary Campfire Songbook

  • Badges + Buttons

    religion