Christmas is coming; the goose is getting ideas above its station.
Please pour pennies in the old man's hat,
gaffer-tape it to his head, then throw him into a canal.
If you haven't got a penny, a farthing will do.
Or bricks, or anything heavy.
If you haven't got anything heavy, just steal the old man's hat,
sit back, and watch him slowly freeze to death.
Then eat a goose.
Please pour pennies in the old man's hat,
gaffer-tape it to his head, then throw him into a canal.
If you haven't got a penny, a farthing will do.
Or bricks, or anything heavy.
If you haven't got anything heavy, just steal the old man's hat,
sit back, and watch him slowly freeze to death.
Then eat a goose.
Ah, December! The last of all months.
If you were ever going to confuse a month with a cucumber, it would be December.
I was born in December. This is my 24th December.
(I'm going to be 27 this year, but I missed a few due to time travel, etc.)
December is French for 'of cember'.
FACTS.
***
Sometimes there are moods that can only be communicated through stabbing. That's what the anti-knifecrime brigade don't seem to realise.
If we ban knives, we might as well cut of our ears and sellotape them to our knees. We might as well.
I think I might buy a stabbing-dummy. I'll call it A POLICEMAN.
***
(I don't know what that last bit was about. I'm sorry. I got overwhelmed. I really hope I don't get accused of stabbing a policeman now. It would be difficult to explain this post.
Also a policeman would be dead.
Though, in many ways, by being a policeman and not a police officer, he will be representing the innate misogynistic agenda of society, and so deserves to die.)
***
'Twas the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before the night before Christmas and all through the house,
things stirred in much the same way as they did throughout the year.
Though a tinselly spectre was looming on the horizon.
And a mouse stirred. Tossed and turned. Couldn't sleep.
Prescient mouse.
Prescient mouse.
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