'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a taxidermy mouse;
The vintage hipster wank stockings were hung by the dusty antique ornaments & decomposed flowers with care,
In hopes that St. Geoffolas soon would be there;
Kathleen was nestled all snug in her duvet fort/bed,
While visions of cheese toasties, dildos & bath bombs danc'd in her head,
And Geoffma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our empty brains for a long winter's nap-
When out on the astroturf there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Past the creepy mannequin, and threw up the sash.
The moon was in retrograde behind the snow,
Gave the lustre of sad lumie lights in Walthamstow
…
Which is what I would have said saw if I weren’t wearing heavy duty ear plugs so I can’t hear ppl throwing up
merry Christmas to all, and to all, pls swipe up.
