Tagged parody

I Will Survive Brexit (a Parody)

It’s parody time. This time I Will Survive, which I have re-imagined being performed by various people and groups in response to Brexit.

I give you…

 
 
I Will Survive Brexit

 
(Nigel Farage)

At first I was afraid I was petrified,
Kept thinking I would be ignored if we actually left.
But then I spent so many nights just watching CNN,
And I saw Trump and now I’m back again.

Oh, I just lie!
I will survive.
The President thinks I run the British Isles.
I’ve got all my wealth to hold.
This elevator’s made of gold.
And I’ll survive,
I will survive.

 
(Boris Johnson)

At first I was afraid, I was petrified,
Kept thinking the economy could never live without the EU on our side.
But then I spent so many nights just thinking I could be PM,
And I joined Leave, and I started spewing phlegm.

And so that backfired.
I just walked in to find against me Gove had conspired.
I should have thought this through.
I should have learnt diplomacy,
If I’d have known for just one second I’d be Foreign Secretary.

 
(The Rest of the EU)

And your leader is someone new.
The EU Summit is not acknowledging that shrew.
And now she’s standing all alone,
Her welcome’s wearing rather thin.
And now we’re saving all our air kisses
For someone who’s staying in.

Go on May, go. Walk out the door.
Just turn around now ’cause you’re not welcome anymore.
Weren’t you the one who tried to break Europe with goodbye?
Did you think we’d crumble?
Did you think we’d negotiate, well, why?

Why should we try?
We will survive.
As long as we’ve got the Single Market, we know we’ll stay alive.
We know that it’s enhancive.
We’ve got all our trade to give.
And we’ll survive,
We will survive.

 
(Leave Supporters)

And so we felt like taking back our sovereignty.
It’s our favourite word after democracy.
We should have learnt what these words mean.
We can’t name one EU law.
We just wanted an excuse to kick immigrants out the door.

Now we must go. Walk out the door.
It’s what the people want, so we’re not listening anymore.
Weren’t you the ones who tried to hurt us with some facts?
Did you think we’d stop being lunatics?
Did you think we’d stop behaving like such dicks?

No, we don’t care!
We will survive.
As long as Farage lies to us we know that we will thrive.
We live a life of fantasies.
Spewing stupid fallacies.
And we’ll tell lies.
We will tell lies.

It took all the strength we had not to check our facts.
Kept trying hard to ignore all the evidence that detracts.
And we spent all our facebook time just claiming we are not racists.
We used to hide, now we wear bigotry with pride.

 
(Remain Supporters)

Do you see them? Our government?
We’re starting to believe that they’re incompetent.
And they’re making it all worse.
They haven’t got a clue.
Have these imbeciles even heard of the EU?

Go on now go. Walk out the door.
Just don’t make us join you, we want to stay in some more.
Weren’t you the ones who believed that bus’ lies?
Come on now, really,
Are you expecting a pig that flies?

Oh no, not us!
Don’t make us leave.
Oh from this stupidity please grant us a reprieve.
The economy will slump.
Please don’t befriend Trump.
Don’t make us leave.
We don’t want to leave.

 
 
 
 

My Random Musings

Twenty Seventeen (a Dystopian Tale)

donald-trump-1269282_1920I’ve had an idea for a book*. It’s a great idea. Nobody has better book ideas than me. All of the other books are overrated. I will write a great, great book. And I will make Mexico pay for that book.**

 
 
Plot Summary

The year is 2017. Wilbert Jones lives in the superstate of Trumpia. The superstate is dictated by a political regime referred to as ‘Altright’ in the government’s invented language, Fakenewspeak. Trumpia is controlled by a privileged elite, known as The Billionaire Party. Any thinking at all is punished as a ‘thoughtcrime’.

Trumpia was formed as a result of the Stupid Revolution, during which masses of the population decided to rebel against nothing very much in the most illogical manner possible, based on a belief in the most ridiculous lies imaginable. Significant sectors of society, furious at having a better standard of living and more rights than before, were convinced that they should no longer stand for this nonsense and demanded a return to ‘greatness’ (a word which here means ‘poverty, oppression and racism’). Meanwhile, rich, white males felt compelled to rebel against being the world’s most powerful group by demanding more power. Following The Stupid Revolution, The Billionaire Party was apparently in control of Trumpia. No one is quite sure how this happened.

The Party leader, Bigly Hand Brother, enjoys a cult of (narcissistic) personality, and inexplicably refers to himself only in the third person. Bigly Hand Brother is much loved, mostly by himself, and receives great praise and thanks, again, mostly from himself. Some people believe that Bigly Hand Brother does not really exist. He may have been created by Trey Parker and Matt Stone. Or be Sacha Baron Cohen’s latest persona. Bigly Hand Brother and The Billionaire Party are interested only in their own power. They have no interest in the well-being of the citizens of Trumpia.

Trumpia has four ministries. The Ministry of #AlternativeFacts rewrites history, deletes tweets, burns tax records and lies through its teeth. The Ministry of You Can Do Anything deals with equality and women’s rights. The Ministry of Greatness is responsible for cutting healthcare, birth control and tax for the rich, and destroying trade agreements, all in the best interests of well-being and prosperity for the normal man. The Ministry of White Supremacy has responsibility for construction (walls), supply (white sheets with eye holes), and the military (goose-stepping and salutes). The Ministry of the NRA is concerned with production (more guns).

A secret underground organisation, known as ‘The Women’, intends to destroy The Party. Bigly Hand Brother has declared The Women to be ‘big, fat pigs’. Instructions have been issued that any person found to be a member of The Women may be grabbed.

There are two other superstates: Europeanunionia and Russia***. There is a state of perpetual, unwinnable war between the superstates. Trumpia is at war with Europeunionia. Trumpia is friends with Russia. Trumpia has always been friends with Russia. A populace familiar with ‘Nothink’ seems to have accepted this, though it is not true. In fact, Trumpia, back in the days before the Stupid Revolution when it was known as ‘America’, was once an ally of Europeunionia, and at war with Russia. The new alliance began during ‘Hate Month’ in November 2016. A month Bigly Hand Brother dedicated to stirring up hatred of everything, except Russia. Brainwashed citizens now repeat the phrase ‘we’ve always been at war with Europeanunionia’. They have been told by the Party that the war is over Europeanunionia’s resettlement of some refugees (although this really isn’t any of Trumpia’s business) and, rather improbably, Europeunionia’s production of much better cars than Trumpia.

Whilst the Billionaire Party live in gold plated luxury, the standard of living for the majority of the population is intentionally kept low. The unwinnable war and breaking of trade agreements assist with this, along with the work of the Ministry of Greatness. The citizens of Trumpia are kept under constant surveillance. By Russia mostly.

Wilbert Jones works in the Ministry of #AlternativeFacts, censoring reality. He erases ‘overrated’ people, and creates crowds of people attending inaugurations. It is Wilbert’s job to ensure all figures, including those relating to hand size, are greatly exaggerated. References to debts owed to Russia, misspelt tweets, rape allegations and the Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution are all eliminated by Wilbert and his colleagues in the Ministry.

Wilbert attempts to resist the Billionaire Party and sets up an alternative twitter account (@altwilbert).**** However, after being tricked by someone he believed to be an agent of The Women, who was really working for The Party, he is captured by the ‘Nothought Police’. He is ultimately waterboarded into submission. Bigly Hand Brother likes waterboarding.*****

 
Terminology of Trumpia

‘Nothink’ is the principle of accepting and repeating any claim – no matter how ludicrous, immoral, contradictory or blatantly untrue – without giving it a second thought, or subjecting it to any level of analysis, critical thinking or fact-checking.

‘Thoughtcrime’ refers to engaging in any rational thought at all. It is punished by the ‘Nothought Police’. Twitter is monitored to detect any citizens engaging in thinking. Bigly Hand Brother personally deals with twitter related thoughtcrime.

Fakenewspeak is a language invented by Bigly Hand Brother and The Party. It consists of a combination of nonsense words, misspelt words, and real words used in a ridiculous manner. Many have suspected that Fakenewspeak is a product of utter stupidity and inability to use the original language of America correctly. Bigly Hand Brother has refuted this claim, stating that: ‘Fakenewspeak is a great, great language – nobody makes up languages better than me, believe me.’

 
 
What do you think? Great book idea, right? I can’t shake the feeling that it is somehow familiar, though…******

 
 

(*I haven’t.

**All based on Trump quotes, just in case anyone thinks I’ve lost the plot.

***Conveniently didn’t even need adjusting – already ended in ‘ia’.

****Do check out the rogue twitter accounts apparently set up by employees of various US agencies that have had their official accounts gagged by the Trump administration. Let’s hope they’re real.

*****And other *ahem* ‘water’ based activities.

******It is familiar. It’s based on Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell, of course.)

 
 
‘There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always – do not forget this – always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face – forever.’

– George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four

Lullaby for Toddlers

the-pleiades-star-cluster-11637_1920Twinkle, Twinkle Go to Bed

 
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I (Put down that toy car!)
Up above the world so high,
(We’re trying to sing this lullaby.)

When the blazing sun is gone,
(Into bed now, please come on!)
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle (Bed! That’s right.)

Then the traveller in the dark
(No, we can’t go to the park!)
He could not see where to go,
If (Yes, I see it’s your shadow.)

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And (INTO BED! It’s time to sleep!)
For you never shut your eye
Till (I’m not playing I spy.)

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the (I said no to the park!)
Though I know (You can’t have bread!)
Twinkle, twinkle (GO TO BED!)

Twelve Days of Brexit

image_update_imgLast year, I did the Twelve Days of Toddler. For this year’s Twelve Days of Christmas parody, I have decided to go political with Brexit.

(Please note that many of these actual numbers are made up to fit the song, but the points behind them are genuine!)

 
 
Twelve Days of Brexit

 
On the first day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the second day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the third day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Three ‘enemies of the state’*,
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the fourth day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Four calls from Trump**,
Three ‘enemies of the state’,
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the fifth day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Five million angry Scots,
Four calls from Trump,
Three ‘enemies of the state’,
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the sixth day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Six banks a leaving,
Five million angry Scots,
Four calls from Trump,
Three ‘enemies of the state’,
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the seventh day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Seven clueless Ministers*,
Six banks a leaving,
Five million angry Scots,
Four calls from Trump,
Three ‘enemies of the state’,
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the eighth day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Eight embassies reporting hate crimes,
Seven clueless Ministers,
Six banks a leaving,
Five million angry Scots,
Four calls from Trump,
Three ‘enemies of the state’,
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the ninth day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Nine million people considering emigrating to Canada,
Eight embassies reporting hate crimes,
Seven clueless Ministers,
Six banks a leaving,
Five million angry Scots,
Four calls from Trump,
Three ‘enemies of the state’,
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the tenth day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Ten reinstatements of the same UKIP leader****,
Nine million people considering emigrating to Canada,
Eight embassies reporting hate crimes,
Seven clueless Ministers,
Six banks a leaving,
Five million angry Scots,
Four calls from Trump,
Three ‘enemies of the state’,
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Eleven far right organisations celebrating,
Ten reinstatements of the same UKIP leader,
Nine million people considering emigrating to Canada,
Eight embassies reporting hate crimes,
Seven clueless Ministers,
Six banks a leaving,
Five million angry Scots,
Four calls from Trump,
Three ‘enemies of the state’,
Two racist newspapers,
And Boris Johnson as Foreign Secretary.

On the twelveth day of Christmas, Brexit sent to me:
Twelve EU leaders insulted*****,
Eleven far right organisations celebrating,
Ten reinstatements of the same UKIP leader,
Nine million people considering emigrating to Canada,
Eight embassies reporting hate crimes,
Seven clueless Ministers,
Six banks a leaving,
Five million angry Scots,
Four calls from Trump,
Three ‘enemies of the state’,
Two racist newspapers,
And NO RETURN OF SOVEREIGNTY!

 
 


*Otherwise known to sane people as ‘High Court Judges’
**To Nigel Farage, who Donald Trump may or may not believe runs our country
***This is a very generous estimate of the number of clueless members of the current government
****At least this is what it has felt like, it may have only happened twice in reality, but that is still ridiculous
*****By Boris thus far (probably!)

The Pig in the Wig (a Trump Parody)

donald-j-trump-1342298_1280Inspired by Donald Trump’s Dr Seuss-esque ‘I have a good plan, a plan that is good, oh so good, you will like this good plan…’ (*this may not be an exact quote), I present my Trump parody, in the style of The Cat in the Hat.

 
 
 
The Pig in the Wig

November was coming.
The election not far away.
So we watched the debate
On that cold, cold, wet day.

All we could do was to
Watch
Watch
Watch
Watch
And we did not like it.
Not one little bit.

And then
Something went SNIFFLE!
How that sniffle made us bristle!

We looked!
Then we saw him step in, puffed up big!
We looked!
And we saw him!
The Pig in the Wig!
And he said to us,
‘I am the man for this gig!’

‘I know America’s not great,
Not from where I am stood,
But I have
A good plan that is good!’

‘I have a good plan we could try,’
Said the pig.
‘I know a good plan,’
Said the Pig in the Wig.
‘A really good plan.
I will show it to you.
America
Will be great again if I do.’

But Hillary Clinton said, ‘No! No!’
Make that pig go away!
Tell that Pig in the Wig
You feel only dismay.
He should not be President.
He should not be about.
He should not be President
That bigoted old lout!’

‘Sniff! Sniff! Have no fear.
Have no fear!’ said the pig.
‘My views are not bad,’
Said the Pig in the Wig.
‘Why, we can have
Lots of fun, Madam Secretary,
With a game that I call
Lie-lie-lie to the unwary!’

‘Let me speak!’ said Hillary.
‘This is absolute bullshit!
Let me speak!’ said Hillary.
‘I fear you have lost it!’

‘Have no fear!’ said the pig.
‘This is no bullshit.
I’m telling you now:
Everyone knows it!
My IQ is the highest!
My hands are so big!
But that is not ALL I can claim!’
Said the pig…

‘Look at me!
Look at me now!’ said the pig.
‘I am rich, I’m the richest!
I’m a self proclaimed bigwig!
I can stalk Hillary across the stage!
I can incite assassination!
I can demand the President’s birth certificate!
And oppose immigration!
And look!
I’m a loose cannon ball!
But that is not all!
Oh, no.
That is not all…

Look at me!
Look at me!
Look at me NOW!
It is fun to have white male privilege
But you have to know how.
I can advocate eugenics.
And be horribly racist!
I can insult all of Mexico!
And be quite the misogynist!
I can abuse Rosie O’Donnell
And Megyn Kelly!
And look! With my conspiracies
I can accuse Hillary!
I can grope any woman
As I build a big wall!
But that is not all.
Oh, no.
That is not all…’

That is what the Pig said…
Then someone fact checked!
He seems rather corrupt.
He has no concept of consent.
And we started to think,
This man CAN’T be President!

‘Now look what you said!’
Said Mrs Clinton to the pig.
‘Now look at this footage!
Look at this! Look, you pig!
You’re friendly with Putin,
You’ve been accused of rape.
You advocated sexual assault
And were recorded on tape.
You SHOULD NOT be President.
This is our plea:
You get out of this race!
Even Republicans agree.’

‘But I like to be here.
Oh, I like it a lot!’
Said the Pig in the Wig,
Looking alarmingly apricot.
‘I will NOT go away.
I do NOT wish to go!
And so,’ said the Pig in the Wig,
‘So
So
So…
I will show you
Another good game that I know!’

And then he ran out.
And then, in the strangest of manoeuvres,
The Pig in the Wig
Came back with a bizarre panel of accusers.

Then he stood up front
With a tip of his wig.
‘I call this game BILL-DID-IT-TOO,’
Said the pig.
‘This panel is here to prove
(And you may call it irrelevant piffle)
That Bill Clinton did something bad too,’
Said the pig, with a sniffle.

‘Oh dear!’ said the rest of the world.
‘Trump is a dangerous narcissist, we proclaim…
Oh dear.
He has no shame!
He has no shame!
He has no shame!’

Then the pollsters came in
And asked, ‘Is it true?
Will you vote for this man?
Tell us. What will you do?’

To the responses received we don’t know
What to say.
How can you justify
The bigotry on display?

Should this man be elected?
What SHOULD they do?
Well…
What would YOU do
If your conscience asked you?

 
 

(*The Serious Bit

Don’t let my terrible rhymes be in vain. If you live in America, please don’t let Trump be elected. Please don’t assume that he can be controlled by Congress or advisers. (Remember both Mussolini and Hitler came to power legitimately through the system, and could not be controlled.) This man is dangerous, not just to America, but to the whole world. He is not qualified. He is not capable. He is not reasonable. Please vote for Hillary. Please do not abstain, or vote for a third party candidate, because you believe tactical voting for a candidate you do not particularly like is unprincipled. There is a place for idealism, but idealism is easy: sometimes it is a cop out. We live in the real world, and often the most principled thing you can do is the thing that will actually have an impact in this real world we live in, even if it is not your ideal option. Besides, this is not a choice between two candidates you do not like, not this time. You may not like either of them, but it is still a choice between a rational, intelligent, experienced politician; and an erratic, delusional, unqualified narcissist. That is not a difficult choice. You would not believe someone with no medical experience or qualifications should be Chief of Staff in a hospital, why would you support someone with no relevant experience or qualifications to run a country?

And for all of us not living in America, we can’t do anything about the outcome of this election. However, the attitudes Donald Trump represents are not confined to the US. As usual, the US may be doing it bigger, but people like Trump, far right movements, they are rising in Britain and across Europe. People are supporting them in Britain and across Europe. It needs to stop.*)

Referendum Dogs (a Parody)

Reservoir_Dogs_Game_PS2_Front_Cover‘Every dog has his day.’

 
I can’t help but notice that the EU Referendum fallout and the subsequent Tory leadership battle seems to be, well, Reservoir Dogs. Referendum Dogs, if you will. The plot is as follows.

 
A group have orchestrated a heist on Britain. Call it a ‘referendum’ if you like, but they seem to have taken the value of our currency, our stability, our government, our national sanity, the EU, probably Scotland, and possibly Northern Ireland, so I’m calling it a heist.

The heist has been carried out by six people, acting under aliases: Mr Blue-Blood-Tory (aka David Cameron), Mr Brown-Shirt (aka Nigel Farage), Mr Pink-and-Smarmy (aka George Osborne), Mr Whiteish-Hair (aka Boris Johnson), Mr Orange-You-Sick-of-Seeing-His-Face (aka Michael Gove), and Miss Blonde (aka Theresa May). It appears the whole thing was orchestrated by mob, sorry newspaper, boss Rupert Murdoch.

The heist has gone a little awry. There has been substantial blood lost, everyone is blaming each other, and it is doubtful anyone is coming out alive.

Mr Brown-Shirt met his end immediately, becoming utterly irrelevant the second the heist began.

Mr Blue-Blood played his part in setting up the heist, but has been missing, presumed dead ever since.

Mr Whitish-Hair may have had his suspicions that the whole thing was a stupid idea from the start, but he had his own ambitions to achieve here.

Mr Whitish-Hair and Mr Orange-Etc appear be helping each other. Mr Whitish-Hair trusts Mr Orange-Etc, defending him when the others accuse Mr Orange-Etc of being an undercover leadership candidate who set them all up. Mr Whiteish-Hair is subsequently devastated when Mr Orange-Etc eventually confesses that he is indeed a leadership candidate. In the aftermath of the ensuing leadership Mexican standoff, it appears likely that the Prime ministerial ambitions of both Mr Whiteish-Hair and Mr Orange-Etc are dead.

Meanwhile, Miss Blonde doesn’t exactly seem to playing the same game as everyone else, and many suspect that she likes to torture people.

Whilst Mr Pink-and-Smarmy has quietly snuck out and vanished, and one rather fears that he was the one in possession of the money.

 
 

Come on, everyone, sing with me: ‘Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right…’

Now, own up: whose bright idea was it to let Quentin Tarantino start directing the United Kingdom??

 
 
Nominations for the Mumsnet Blogging Awards 2016 are open until 31st July. If you find me at all amusing, I would love nominations in the Best Comic Writer category. Nominating is very simple by following the link above. Thank you for reading my shameless begging.

‘I Want to Know What That Is’, by Toddler (A Foreigner Parody)

people-315908_1280Sorry, I am afraid I am writing parodies again. This time of I want to Know What Love Is, by Foreigner. (You can hear the original here.)

 
 
I Want to Know What That Is

(By Toddler)

 
I gotta take a little time
A little time to colour the books here
I better scribble on every line
In case anyone wants to read the Shakespeare

Now this bookcase I must climb
Feels like Mummy wants me not to
This happens all the time
All the fun things I cannot do

In my life there have been tantrums and tears
All your warnings fall on deaf ears
Can’t stop now, I’m running away
To knock down that display

I want to know what that is
I want you to show me
I want to touch what that is
I demand that you let me

I’m gonna take a little time
A little time to vanish in the shop
I’ve got nowhere left to hide
It looks like I’ll have to throw a strop

In my life there’s been tantrums and tears
All your warnings fall on deaf ears
Can’t stop now, I’m running away
To knock down that display

I want to know what that is
I want you to show me
I want to touch what that is
I demand that you let me

I want to know what that is
I want you to show me
I want to touch, I want to touch what that is
Right now, I demand that you let me

Let’s talk about that
I want to know what that is, before I throw a fit
I want to you to show me, because I’m feeling quite grabby
I want to touch what that is, no, you just cannot hide it
I know you can show me

I want to know what that is, let’s talk about that
I demand that you show me, I want to have it now
I want to touch what that is, I want to touch it now
And I know, and I know, I know you WILL show me
Show me cos it’s mine
I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THAT IS

The Pig Must Go Off (A ‘The Show Must Go On’ Parody)

Peppa 1I’m doing song parodies again (sorry about that). I still can’t rhyme (sorry about that).

This time I have chosen one of my favourite Queen songs (sorry about that, Queen). So here is my Peppa Pig parody (not sorry, Peppa) of The Show Must Go On.

(If you want to see the original lyrics of The Show Must Go On, and hear the song, you can find it here.)

 
 
The Pig Must Go Off

 
Annoying piggy, what are they watching for
She’s rather bratty, we know that for sure
On and on, does anybody know what toddlers watch it for
Another creature, another alliterative name
Peppa’s the worst one, but they’re all to blame
Be honest now, does anybody want to slap her in the face
The pig must go off
The pig must go off
The toddler says her heart is breaking
Yes, now she’s started wailing
But that pig cannot stay on

Whatever happens, no more pig today
Another tantrum, resolve starts to sway
On and on, does anybody know what toddlers watch it for
I guess we’re jumping
In muddy puddles now
We’ll soon be soaking
Thanks to that bossy sow
‘More pig,’ the toddler’s calling
But of that bloody pig mummy’s aching to be free
The pig must go off
The pig must go off
The toddler says her heart is breaking
Yes, now she’s started wailing
But that pig cannot stay on

Their eyes are both on the same side of their face
Surely one eye must be completely out of place
Peppa must go, my friends
The pig must go off
The pig must go off
I’ll face the tantrum with a grin
This time Peppa will not win
Off with the show

Daddy Pig, Mummy Pig
Even George is going off
Off with the
Off with the pig
The pig must go off

Fairytale of New Parents

christmas-tree-708002_1920

(To the tune of Fairytale of New York, my favourite Christmas song)

 
 
It was Christmas Eve (help)
For the parents
The children said to us,
Can we have more chocolate now?
If we do not allow
Then they’ll have a cry
Til we give in to them
And kiss discipline goodbye

We need a lucky night
The kids to go to sleep
We’ve got a feeling
It might not last for long
We’ll quickly wrap the gifts
And fill the stockings up
Hope they stay in bed
How could this go wrong?

They got Lego galore
Princess dresses in gold
But they just like the boxes
In which they were sold

When they first went to bed
On a cold Christmas Eve
We promised them
Presents were waiting for them

They were excited
They were giddy
They got a little bit lippy
When we finished their stories
They called out for more
One started bouncing
The other was singing
They must go to sleep
They can’t dance through the night

Father Christmas in his sleigh
Is travelling on his way
And the bells are ringing
Out for Christmas Day

We’ve got sprouts
We’ve got stuffing
And potatoes for roasting
Lying there on that tray
Dinner’s in disarray

We’ve got pudding
And crackers
Where are the nutcrackers?
Merry Christmas from Mummy
Dinner may not be yummy

Father Christmas in his sleigh
Is travelling on his way
And the bells are ringing
Out for Christmas Day

We could have organised
We shouldn’t be surprised
There’ll be no dreams for us
Won’t get to bed tonight
We underestimated
all we had to do
Do kids need breakfast too??
We built our plans around chocolate

Father Christmas in his sleigh
Is travelling on his way
And the bells are ringing
Out for Christmas Day