Because nothing says Christmas quite like taking a well known, much loved piece of festive prose and butchering it in the name of parody… Merry Christmas
T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a hard disk was whirring, no click of a mouse.
Emails to Santa had been written with care,
In the hope that new Playstations soon would be there.
The children were finally slumped in their beds,
While visions of Candy Crush danced in their heads.
And Mum with her Baileys and me on Taboo
Had just settled down with some old Doctor Who.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I dragged myself up to see what was the matter.
After putting Matt Smith and his TARDIS on pause,
I went to the window to look for the cause.
The weather was howling, visibility low,
But at least there still hadn’t been any snow.
Then, what to my slightly tired eyes should appear,
But the sight of a knocked over plastic reindeer.
With a telltale swagger, and slurring that thick,
I knew in a moment it must be my Nick.
He’d had one too many – each year was the same,
With the staff down the local, he’d made quite a name.
“Now Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Thingy and Vixen!
On, Comet! On *hic*! On whatserface-litzen!”
I watched as Nick swayed his way into the hall,
And felt a slight pang for my just-painted wall.
I stood and looked on as he veered side to side,
On his way to the fridge to see what was inside.
Against all odds he made it and started to rifle,
With a stern word from me to steer clear of the trifle.
And then, without warning, I heard the loud proof
Of some tiles being blown by the wind off the roof.
As I gazed at the heavens and was turning around,
I saw Mum had dozed off, having not heard a sound.
With Nick drenched to the bone from his head to his foot,
And my date with The Doctor now sadly kaput,
My attention had turned, now I knew he was back,
To thoughts of a bath before hitting the sack.
I was now as worn out as he was obviously merry;
I’d been busy while he’d spent the day on the sherry!
Shopping, wrapping and baking – I’d been on the go;
Christmas Days don’t just sort themselves, you know!
I’d fought to get two kids to brush their teeth,
I’d stopped next door’s dog making off with the wreath;
“All I’d wanted to do was to sit and watch telly!”
I thought, watching Nick eat his way through the jelly.
He looked like a rather damp over-sized elf
And I couldn’t help laughing in spite of myself.
He looked up and winked, Santa hat on his head;
I grinned (though tomorrow’s hangover I’d started to dread).
He spoke not a word and we got straight to work
On filling the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
We’d both heard a noise and we thought we’d been caught,
But it was just Mum so we put out the carrot and port.
Our job done, Nick turned and then quite loudly whispered
“I only meant to have one but the lads all insisted!”
“It’s fine”, I assured, “but you don’t half look a sight!
“I’m off up to bed”, to which he replied, “Good night!”