A Merry Christmas to all my Readers!


My nephew Michael is very dismissive of Christmas. He has even written a song about how awful he thinks it is. He never used to think that way when he was little and I gave him his Christmas Box. I only used to give him a Beano annual or something, but you should have seen his little face light up. Kiddies love Christmas. It would be easy to say that that’s just because they are greedy little buggers that are only interested in what they get. My nephew probably thinks that these days. And of course there’s a bit of truth in it. But then when you look at it, kiddies are the poorest people in the country, in that they are entirely dependent on handouts. They are going to get excited about any opportunity to gain their material possessions aren’t they? We’ve ruddy well taught them that material possessions are what counts in life. They have no easy means of getting hold of many, apart from at Christmas and their Birthdays. They are the only real chances they get, so if they seem a bit greedy, whose fault is that? It’s only what we’ve taught them.

But there used to be another reason why the kiddies loved Christmas. Maybe there still is. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the adults would be a little more available, a little less preoccupied, and a lot less likely to dish out a thick ear or a slapped arse. This might have been something to do with Christ’s message of love to all mankind. Bit to my way of thinking it had more to do with sherry. Everybody used to drink sherry at Christmas. Anyone who didn’t probably drank advocaat, which is basically a mixture of Dutch Sherry and custard. These days people are more likely to drink alcopops or extra strong lager, which makes them ruddy belligerent. You don’t get belligerent from Sherry or advocaat. You just get merry. And if you can’t be merry at Christmas, then when can you.

If they had had Sherry and advocaat in Jamaica, then Bob Marley wouldn’t have had to smoke all those drugs and make a mess of his lungs. And he would still have been just as mellow and relaxed.

My Christmas tip to you is to make sure that you get plenty of sherry and advocaat down you on the day. You don’t have to drink the ruddy stuff. You can stick it in a trifle, or make custard with it to pour over your pudding. Or you can do both of those things and still have a few glasses.

And don’t worry if the kiddies have a little in their trifle or custard. It’s Christmas for Heaven’s sake. It will probably calm them down a bit. Stop then arguing over those ruddy toys you spent so much on. There would be a bit more harmony in the house then.

In fact it is your duty to bring harmony to your little corner of the world at Christmastime, by whatever means you can. But don’t go thinking that you can bring harmony with thick ears and slapped arses, any more than they can bring harmony to the world with bombs and missiles. Cut all that stuff out. If Christmas doesn’t mean harmony, then all that’s left of it is greed. Leave that to the Tories; The greedy ruddy pigs!

If you are in the mood for more Christmas cheer from your dear old Aunt take a look at my Twelve Days of Christmas, from last year.


pigs headI never held with ruddy Hallowe’en. Another excuse for the kiddies to come terrorising you, leaving filthy parcels on your doorstep, chucking eggs at your windows and such like. Now that I am dead, I like it even less. Its on a par with racialism and homophonia to make fun of dead people, using crude stereotypes like skeletons and ghosts with sheets over their heads. Have a little ruddy respect, that’s all I have to say on the matter. You will be dead soon enough, and then you’ll understand.

Any Road, I noticed that a few people have been putting scary stories on here, and one of them, “Would you like flies with that?” by my old friend Nicholas C Rossis, has a pigs head in it. I reviewed his science fiction book  “The Power of  Six”  in my Book Club a few weeks ago, a ruddy good read it was. and this story is too. Only its not so much science fiction as like an episode from the “Twilight Zone” which was a good programme if you liked having the willies put up you on a Saturday night.

Pigs is the theme of one my nephew Michael’s poems out of another book that I reviewed in my book club. “The Great British Poets” so in the spirit of Hallowe’en and as a compliment to Nick Rossis’s story I give you a taste of our michael’s literary offerings


Hog Roast

I must admit that I’ve had better days
Trotting, truffling
Snorting, snuffling
I used to have cloven hooves
I used to have a curly tail
I used to have a sty of my own
I used to enjoy simple pleasures
For crying out loud!
Look at me now
What am I reduced to?
A Sideshow
Skewered and scorched
Sliced for sandwiches
Apple sauce?
Don’t mind if I do!
Mind you
Mustn’t grumble
Chin up
Keep on smiling
I’ll survive
No.. I will
I’ll live on in all those who munch on my mortal remains
Ingesting the messages stored deep within my DNA
Replicating and reproducing
You, my new host
A little less human
A little more porcine
A little less you
A little more me
I don’t mind if I do!

The Great British Poets Volume XVIII: Mike O’Brien is available as both an illustrated paperback and a non illustrated kindle thing on the Amazon.