Category Archives: Christmas

Premier League, football, Christmas gifts, and a prayer for whats important at this time. From a Crystal Palace fan’s perspective, at least.

Christmas Hangover.

What an inspiring result at Man City the Palace fans saw,
But we’re back to reality after Cardiff’s Nil-all draw,
Some say the Welsh were plucky,
Some say Palace were unlucky,
Cardiff came with a rear-guard ponderous, leaky and porous,
Hell, those Bluebirds would- should- be easy pickings for us.

But the Palace sharp-shooters hit both the bar and the post,
They tend to clobber the woodwork more often than most,
Gawd, they hit the bar, they miss the ricochet,
We wouldn’t really be celebrating Christs birthday;
Surely after the Man City Miracle, Lord it would please us
If someone nailed in a couple of crosses. (Apologies to Jesus.)

Donald, his White House Christmas and me. Merry Christmas Mr President!

Screaming Memememe.

I’m sat at the White House, all alone,
Oh, poor pitiful me,
Just me, at Christmas, I with my phone,
Oh, poor lonesome me.

Being Prez ain’t all tinsel and glitter
Even for wonderful me,
All I have is my GreaT thoughts and Twitter
To accompany me…

Yes, I’m missing out on Melania’s home-cooked meal
Which disagrees with me,
But fortuitously, I’ve worked out a hell of a deal
‘Tween McDonalds and me.

This Christmas I’ve no Kelly, no Mattis
To stifle magnificent me
On troops, policy and other trifling matters,
Oh, impulsive impetuous me.

Here I’m free from their ever-ongoing discussion
That soooooo bores me,
They might as well talk turkey in Chinese- or Russian,
It’s all Greek to me.

Here I’m free of constraints from one and all,
Free to think of only me,
As governments shut down, and my stocks fall
I sit in wonder and wonder about me.

Who could sleep last night what with the excitement of Santa Claus’ impending arrival? Looking up to the sooty sky I could scarcely imagine the stress on that ol’ coot in the red suit… Anyway , something sparked the imagination.

Merrily On High.

Down the chimney Santa Claus went
But he’s a touch laden down at present,
For Santa may wish to discharge his duty
But Santa Claus is carrying too large a booty.

The dazed and confused residents below
Heard his ‘Yo ho ho’ become an ‘uh-oh.’

Santa was stuck fast ‘neath the chimney pot-
Speaking of which, pot is legal now, is it not?
They puffed and strained to smoke the stout fellow out
But a man of Santa’s weight can butt wait and mellow out.

Season of discontent to reason for joy? A jolly good pre-Christmas for the Palace faithful.

Christmas Gift, Gladly Taken.

Santa’s gifts are real, I do believe;
‘Tis come on the eve of Christmas eve,
If you’re a Palace fan in Man City Land
Praying some bearded guy up there’d lend a hand.

Far away from the delights of Selhurst Park
Prospects for an Eagles win are usually dark,
But to hope for a win at City, ones odds are slim;
‘Twould be a monumental miracle, even for Him.

‘Twas a light fixture, thought those fans clad in blue
But they’ve left the Etihad with heavy hearts at 3-2,
Palace scoring 3 away comes once in a blue moon,
Santa’s present has come early, on a Saturday afternoon.

A new year approaches, new job opportunities arise, and if things don’t work out, well, a spell on the dole might be good for this over-worked soul.

Dear Folks.

Dear folks, sorry I haven’t written lately-
Work has curtailed my writing time greatly,
My old ass of a supervisor has left in disgrace,
Unfortunately an even bigger one’s taken her place.

Nowadays my time is not my own,
Unanswered messages fill my iPhone,
I’m losing sleep, sangfroid and my friends
Now I’m working every Goddamn hour He sends.

I’m up at the crack of dawn,
My first act is a jaw-cracking yawn,
Second, I reach to switch of the phones alarm
Then for the Lorazepam to restore my morning calm.

Breakfast consists of a hash brown
With a jumbo Starbucks to wash it down,
Will this sustain me till my working day is done?
Por favor, barista, pour me another one, on the run.

I’m an hour at my work station, sweating away
When my supervisor begins his hard working day,
I don’t wish to infer that he’s an obese lazy swine
But when he finds his work hard, suddenly its mine.

By lunch that second coffee’s proved a big mistake,
The boss begrudgingly acquiesces to gimmie a break,
My flying feet slowed, faltered then crawled to a stall-
Two jumbo cups a morning’s a dribble too much after all.

Soon my eight hour day had come and gone,
I was feeling peeved, pissed-off and put-upon,
From not letting me spend a penny, on his dime
The tight-ass wants me here spending my free time.

I asked about paying time and a half?
How long and hearty that man can laugh,
Then when I suggested time and a quarter
His snort came quick, his bray even shorter.

So my work-a-day writings, I will admit
Have been joyless contributions to submit,
But now my scribblings are bound to get better-
How free and inspiring is writing a resignation letter?

Weight and job loss plan, Part Two. Stepping up or stepping out, job prospect wise?

Fit By Christmas.

From late December on Santa has time to kill,
To kick back, crack open some cold ones, sit and chill,
To chomp Chitos, uncinch his belt, let his guts spill.

So Santa presented himself with a treadmill-
For a man who won’t be seen to be over the hill
He’s making hard work of staying precisely still.

Santa stepped up to his work with a will,
A smile wreathing his jolly old face until…
Santa’s replacement has big boots to fill.