Wednesday, 4 July 2012

An Unseasonal Christmas Poem

About now is the time shops gear up to begin their big Christmas push, or at least it seems that way; so I thought I'd commemorate the occasion with a little poem. Or, you can see this as an interesting comment on the datelessness of the Internet (it's a word!) and how I can publish in July but you can still read it in December. Whatever tickles your pickle.

Santa is a paedophile.
There’s no doubt in my mind
When children sit down on his knee
He’s feeling their behind.

His elves are dressed in skin-tight pants,
They’re only three feet tall,
And Santa, every single night
Takes one into his hall.

He watches children every day
To see if they behave;
He gives the nice ones lots of sweets
But it’s the naughty ones he craves.

He’s not particularly fussed
If it’s a girl or boy;
He’ll try to take them to his house
By giving them a toy.

So take heed, kids, on Christmas Eve
To watch out for this creep,
‘Cos otherwise he’ll fly right in
And watch you while you sleep.