Dec. 23rd, 2016

Cross-posted to all my bits of the internet:

How the Trump Stole Christmas

The people were spending, and spending a lot,
But Vlad the Imputin in Russia was not.
He hated the time and he hated the season
For one misanthropic and world-weary reason.
So what was the cause of our Vladimir’s groaning?
As soon as it’s Christmas, the people start moaning.
“It’s all come too soon and it’s over too quick
The turkey’s too small and we ate till we’re sick
It’s all for the children, you have to be small,
But the kids don’t appreciate Christmas at all.
It used to be magic when I was a tot,
An apple and orange was all that you got.
But now we’re obsessed with amassing more stuff
And the presents I get simply aren’t good enough.
It‘s bad for the soul and it‘s bad for the planet
And Birmingham Council are trying to ban it!”
“What’s this?” muttered Vlad, watching everyone frown.
“The season of Christmas just brings them all down.
I know what to do to bring back their good cheer -
I’ll make Christmas Day, and its Eve, disappear.
But who shall I get to re-fill Santa’s sack?
There’s always the Trump - he likes taking things back.
He took back his country on finding it broken
And then he took back every word that he’d spoken.”

The Trump was a creature both hairy and yellow
That sat on the head of an unlucky fellow
Controlling his actions, controlling his thoughts,
Controlling his settlements outside the courts.
But Vlad took control of the arrogant pig,
His hackers attacked and reprogrammed his wig.
So Vlad was delighted about his new puppet,
He bent the West over and shoved the Trump up it.

The Trump set to work in American lands,
And the people cried, “look at the size of his hands!
Those hands are for grabbing and taking and stealing
And knocking down migrants while claiming they’re healing.”
The Trump set to work with the hands that he’d shown
And he built up a wall made of mortar and stone
And behind it he placed all the Christmassy things
Like the ropey old song by McCartney and Wings
And the couples who shout at each other with stress
And the cards that were sent to a former address
And TV show specials all filmed in July
And the carols sung flat as a post-Brexit high
And all of the office night out indiscretions
The genitals copied in xeroxing sessions
The Christmas release by the X-Factor winner
And the gaseous fumes we emit after dinner.

With these all immured, the Trump turned his attention
To Biblical tales of divine intervention.
“I think that some changes,” he said, “are in order.
The shepherds should stay on their side of the border.
The part played by Gabriel shouldn’t be large,
We’ll make our ambassador Nigel Farage.
And Mary, we’ll say, just to keep it Christmassy,
Not touched by the Lord, but was grabbed by the pussy.
And though the Wise Men said that Jesus was king,
Let me tell you, these experts don’t know everything.
We’ll cancel the census, pay taxes to no man -
It’s just the invention of some nasty Roman.
And now it’s all true!” said the Trump.  “Although actually
Some of it needs to be taken post-factually.”

That night, as he slept in some awkward positions
The Trump was approached by three dire apparations.
He knew who they were, though their faces were hidden -
The ghosts of Theresas May, Might Not, and Didn’t.
“Oh phantoms,” he said, “with your wails so intensive,
Your chains made of iron, and your trousers expensive,
Why have you arrived at this ungodly hour
To my roost in the roof at the top of Trump Tower?”
And then with a howling and wailing and keening
They cried, “we are here to explain the true meaning
Of Christmas, to someone who thinks it’s a con.
Christmas means Christmas!”  And then they were gone.

“Well that was unhelpful,” the Trump said and yawned,
And then he discovered that Christmas had dawned.
“I must see the people!” he cried.  “How they’ll cheer
To discover that Christmas is cancelled this year!
They’ll dance in the streets, and they’ll all raise their voices
To show how a Christmasless person rejoices!”
But all he could hear was a low steady droning -
For all of the people were still bloody moaning!
“It’s all come too quick and there’s nothing on telly
Our relatives came and they’re old and they’re smelly
It’s cold and it’s freezing and still hasn’t snowed
And I borrowed enough to pay half what I owed.”
But when no attention was paid to their moans,
They spent Christmas Day simply glued to their phones.
“How odd,” said the Trump.  “I removed all the traces
Of Christmas, but still there’s no joy on their faces.
So Christmas is something that nobody stops,
However expensive it gets in the shops.”
So then the Trump ordered a huge wrecking ball.
He started it up and demolished the wall,
And Christmas was back!  There was no need to shout it.
If only he’d done risk assessments about it.
The ball swung around, to his hairline it sped,
And it knocked the Trump clean off the poor fellow’s head.
“I’m free!” shouted Donald, “a man once again!
Now the Trump’s off my head, not controlling my brain!
Give thanks to the ball, it has served the world well!”
And then it swung back and killed Donald as well.

And Vladimir Putin watched all this take place,
And he shook both his fists, slapped his palm on his face.
“I’ll never make anyone happy because
That’s the last time I try!” he exclaimed.  And it was.

So celebrate Christmas and be of good cheer
And let’s all give our thanks it’s the end of the year.
And if you feel something’s gone missing, don’t jump
To conclusions - it may have been thieved by the Trump.
And there’s one particular thing you might lack
For the Trump stole some cards and did not give them back
And I didn’t forget them, whatever you feel -
For they said, “to my friends, Merry Christmas!  Love, Neil.”

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