Tuesday 2 December 2014

Santa's 'The Tuesday'

Santa was cross, he'd had a bad day.
The elves were on strike for more overtime pay.
They'd all been on strike since the end of October,
and all turned to drink, not one of them sober.

And Donner and Dancer and Cupid and Blitzen
had gone off in a 'hoof' since early last Whitsun'.
His lights wouldn't flash and his bells wouldn't ring,
his Jing wouldn't Jang and his Jang wouldn't Jing.

After asking Mrs. Claus for the weather forecast,
he hoped Christmas present would become Christmas past.
Global warming had meant there'd be no snow this year,
so she'd said with a sigh, "There'll just be 'rain dear!"

On top of it all, he'd got the presents to sort
and political correctness had made the task fraught.
No dolls for the girls or guns for the boys,
nothing that bangs or pollutes with it's noise.

No harm to their teeth from a sweet or a lolly.
Nothing sexist or racist, like a Barbie or Golly!
No books on religion or to do with the body,
no 'Famous Five' and nothing on 'Noddy'!

No caffeine filled drinks to cause tension and stress.
No glue and no paint, because of the mess.
No jigsaws with pieces that some kid could choke on
and nothing too fragile that would only get 'broke-on'.

No feathers or fur and nothing of leather.
Nothing too simple and nothing too clever.
Nothing too violent and nothing too scary.
Nothing Royalist or 'Gay', not a Queen nor a 'Fairy'!

Nothing with e-numbers or colourings that might,
bring them out in a rash or be hyperactive all night.
No balls and no bats which could injure or bruise,
and nothing with bits they were certain to lose.

No marbles or beads that a small child could fit,
up its nose, in its ears or unmentionable bits.
And trees must be from a sustainable source,
and the lights must be energy saving, of course!

And gone were the days when all they would wish,
was an apple, an orange, or a rod made to fish.
These days an Xbox, an iPad, or a giant TV,
was all that they asked for when they sat on your knee.

And he was tired and fed up of appearing so jolly,
and he knew what he'd like them to do with their holly!
He was sick of clambering about on all those roofs,
now he wasn't so nimble as he was in his 'yoof'.

He hated those people who said, "No pets at all,
a puppy's for life not for Christmas", they call.
Well it's OK for them with their fine protestations,
but what can I do with five thousand Dalmations?!!

Though, in spite of it all, by the end of the night,
he'd still manage to give every child something right.
Then he could sit by the fire with a big jug of beer,
and wish you all, "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!"

No comments:

Post a Comment