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.
