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Yeah, Merry Whatever


Fighting with the sticky tape,

that’s my idea of fun –

presents all around and I’ve not

wrapped a single one.


Scissors blunt and battered

cut a funny jagged path,

a little trail of crimson shows

the bloody aftermath.


Ribbon strangulation is

a curious event;

the world is rosy-coloured when

your air is nearly spent.


Vernacular unladylike

is hanging in the air --

now I wish I’d bought more boxed-up

socks and underwear.


Damn, I’ve no more eyebrows where

the sticky tape has been,

my finger sports a dreadful gash,

my language is obscene.


Scissors fly across the room

(that’s quite a cunning stunt),

think they would have killed the dog

if they were not so blunt.


That’s the end: I cannot stand

this inhumanity!

Gift bags purchased from the shop

will save my sanity.


What’s that? The shop’s not open?

But it’s Christmas Eve, you fool!

It seems instead of joy and cheer,

here chaos is the rule.


The stores must be conspiring –

it’s an anti-service club.

That’s it! Christmas is cancelled

and I’m going to the pub.

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