T’was the run up to Christmas

Bad Santa
T’was the run up to Christmas and, lo and behold,
thousands of folks trudging out in the cold.
Their hands and feet frozen, the wind in their eyes.
they scrambled to get to the last few Mince Pies

The slow and infirm were trampled in the scuffle
to get to the last box of cheap Belgian truffles
While countless poor souls were lost in the fight
for a bottle of wine, to toast Christmas night.

Suddenly, the crowd spun around with a yell
and charged all at once, like a pack out of Hell.
They bashed and they battered, they pushed and they shoved
For word had got out, “M&S!” “Sale on gloves!”

“My granny would love them”,”Forget her, their mine!”
“LET ME THROUGH, LET ME THROUGH!”,”OI! Back of the line!”
From my vantage point, by a display of ties,
I witnessed the horror with my very own eyes

As each shopper vied for a place in the queue
A little old lady hobbled into view.
I cried out a warning but alas, she heard not
and was trampled to naught but a small, greasy spot

Now dashing and darting, now punching and kicking
Biting and gouging, eye poking, ear flicking
I saw one woman wield a small boy, like a club
and I watched as the poor lad started to blub

So, twas a mercy, when she swung with such might
that he slipped from her hands and flew out of sight
(He was found, safe and sound, some thirteen days later
in a display of cardigans, near the escalator)

Without her weapon, she was soon overcome
By a tag teaming granny and stay-at-home mum
With a zimmer frame shot to the side of the head
and a kick to the ribs, they left her for dead

They fought tooth and nail over jackets and sweaters
to answer the wishes of loved ones Christmas letters
While, in the background, the Christmas muzak plays
the same track repeated for twenty-odd days.

Son against daughter, father against mother
they beat seven Jingle bells out of each other
charging through the store like stampeding cattle
soon, the shop Santa was drawn into the battle.

He leapt from his stage, with a blood curdling yell
and upon the crowd of naughty shopgoers he fell.
He had such broad shoulders, with arms like two trees
and a right hook which would bring a Clydesdale to it’s knees

A fearsome sight in his suit of bright red
he hoisted one old dear right over his head
and with a dark chuckle, brought her down through a stack
of cut price DVD’s, snapping her back.

At the sickening crunch, the shoppers took pause
such was the wrath of this store Santa Claus.
They could tell without doubt, Kris Kringle was pissed…

And so, boys and girls, the moral of our story
is to be kind to others, or face an ending most gory.
And I heard Santa roar, as I ran for my life

Merry Christmas everyone.

Taking Steps – I Will Draw A Thing!

Did you ever see the thing I drew for Marital Unit? Toothless and Baymax and whatnot? Here’s a pic…


I’m quite proud of that, plus it got me thinking.
If you’ve read 12 Days Of Nonsense and Taking Steps (and if you haven’t, shame on you) then you’ll know that i’m raising money for Steps, a very fine charity.

So, here’s the deal. If you donate to my JustGiving page for Steps, you can pick any cartoon or comic type character (because I can’t draw anything else) and i’ll add it to a big mish-mash-mural type image.

Then, when we hit…I don’t know…£500? Yeah. When we hit the first £500, i’ll pick a random sponsor from a hat and they’ll win the picture.

It’s easy. Drop me a quid or two and then hit me up on Twitter, by email, on Facebook, by phone or whatever other method works.  Pick your character and bob’s your mother’s brother!

Taking Steps

I think about my feet a lot.

Hello, Host Body here. Al’s kindly taking a back seat and letting me type for a bit. Most of you probably know that I have a condition called talipes, better known as club foot. When I was but a mere sapling, my feet were turned inward and upward. A whole bunch of operations and a lifetime of self abuse later bring me to the ever moving now, in which I live  with a lot of pain and a foot that looks like a Nik Nak.

Ho hum, it could be worse, yadda yadda. I’m not going to complain, i’ve done that enough over the years. (Here, for example. Also, here.) Time to get pro-active.

I recently discovered a marvellous charity called Steps, which works with people like me, along with those who suffer from other lower limb deficiencies. I was thrilled to discover that there was an organisation to which I could offer my support and I have been determined to think of some way to raise funds for them.

Then, the other night, it hit me. I…I mean, Al had been planning a blog post for the run up to Christmas, in which I…HE waffled on about the cost of the gifts from The Twelve Days Of Christmas.


Good, wasn’t it?
Anyhoo, that’s a hell of a total, don’t you think? Nearly £50,000 pounds. That’s an amount of money that could do some real good, huh? You know where this is going…

I decided to set that possibly ludicrous target for my Steps fundraising and if you’d like to help out, you can hit my JustGiving page. Click it. Give freely of yourself and the contents of your shovel purse.

If you can’t afford to throw a few quid my way, I understand. Times are tough all round. A share costs nothing though. A retweet. A quick post on Facebook along the lines of “This guy is a bloody marvel, give him money”. It would mean the world to me, to say nothing of the good it could do for others.

You can check out Steps here and I urge you to do so, they do great work.

Oh, in case you’re wondering, the answer is no. No, I won’t just be posting this blog (and that other, funnier one) and popping up the odd tweet. I plan to do all sorts of fundraising tomfoolery on behalf of this fine cause, so watch this space. First on my list is a 24 hour tweet-a-thon, dates to follow.

So, help me out? Enjoy the warm, fuzzy feeling that comes from giving a couple of quid to a chubby guy with buggered feet? Or the equally pleasant glow that comes from telling other people to give me their money. Your choice, i’m good either way. Ta.

…I am losing my patience…