Ye Olde Linoleum Shoppe

Wednesday 21 December 2011

The Night Before XXXmas

WARNING: Gentle Readers, the following post is a nauseating, vulgar pastiche, and as such, a perfect reflection of the Christmas spirit. I have asterixed the smutty words giving an amusing snowflake-like texture to the doggrel.

'Twas the night before Christmas and the squeaks in the house,
Were the sounds of Niall Colfer abusing a mouse.
O Sullivan and McDermott were farting in bed
While ould Cathy Moore baked inedible bread.
All our trowels were stored in a small timber box
And Franc Myles was busy choosing a frock.
'Will it be pink?' He wondered, 'Or Blue?'
When out on the street arose a hullabaloo.
Off to the window Franc flew in a flash,
Tearing his gusset as he slipped on the sash.
With his tackle a-dangling he saw through the fog
A box, of cardboard, dragged by two dogs.
"In China," the box claimed it was made in
And packaged within was sweet Alan Hayden.
Those mongrels they charged like seraphs aflame
And Alan he cursed and abused them by name.
'On Gringo you b*****d! On Luther you c***!
You dumb lazy s**ts, we don't have all month!'
To the rear of our house the dogs they came crashing
And then came the sound of a back window smashing.
When we ran to the kitchen it was just as we feared,
There stood dear Alan with glass in his beard.
He looked like an elf. Well . . . more like a goblin
Then he spat and he grunted: 'What's your f***ing problem?'
Al raced upstairs and sniffed about like a fox
Until he had excavated our box.
He tore it wide open, grabbed all the trowels
Then gave a look that could loosen ones bowels.
'You  f***ers,'  he gnashed 'May your spuds all get blight!
You stole all these trowels off my f***ing site!'
Nora Bermingham tried to thieve them once more
But Al roared 'F**k off!' And made for the door.
Conor and Aidan jumped out of the bed
Saying: 'Hold down the p***k and we'll fart on his head!' 
Cathy was p***ed and threw a loaf for a hoot,
But it didn't hit Alan, it hit Franc's dangling fruit!
Niall Colfer appeared in a bit of a flap,
Squealing, 'My b******s! My b******s! They're snared in a trap!'
In all the confusion Al slipped away
With both of his dogs and substitute sleigh,
But I heard him exclaim 'ere he had gone
'Ed Bourke must have been, 'cos there's s**t on your lawn!'

So Merry Christmas blog readers
I wish you good cheer
But beware of housebreakers
If they wear a beard . . .

1 comment:


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I am a descended from a long line of conga dancers. I occasionally wear shoes. I gave up going to the toilet twenty years ago - it's a filthy habit. I have a pet bunny called Mucky - he's a filthy rabbit.