As is traditional, the annual appearance of Christmas tat on the shelves get earlier each year. It’s not unusual to see the first Christmas cards of the year on display in early September, while it is still reasonably warm and sunny. I’m very much of a ‘Keep Christmas in December’ type of person and even then that’s under sufferance. If, like me, you loathe the inappropriate intrusion of the festive season months before the event, here’s a poem for you…
Oh bloody hell and surely not, I can’t believe my eyes, Can it be? Oh yes it is, On the shelves, mince pies.
Behold the sugary dainties, In garish festive box The fruit filled suety morsels, Tease and taunt and mock.
And tell the tales of misery, Remorseless shop til drop, The months of Christmas awfulness, Please, please, make it stop.
The summers not long over, Leaves are gold and red, So take your pesky pastries, Remove those pies of dread.
Away the ghastly snack of doom, Be gone it’s buttery taste, Until at least November, And then, without due haste.
For Christmas in September, With autumn in the air, Is a thought I do not need, Begone your fat filled fare.
Tentacles and spiders legs, Goblin’s farts and rotten eggs, Bogey pies and Dragon’s snouts, Mouldy fleas and Brussel sprouts, Cobweb flan and bats on toast, Spicy warts and sautéed ghost, Toenails in a Marmite sauce, cabbage trifle, second course; Line up, line up, join the queue, Prepare yourself to gag and spew, Tray in hand, knife, fork and spoon, Grab yourself a plate of doom, Abandon hope with fear untold, School dinners hot, school dinners cold.
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