Twenty five things I don’t really need for christmas


I don’t need sainsburys telling me what tastes nice
Or Jamie Oliver prawn, right price
Id rather have head lice than subscribe
Though I do scratch my head a lot
Thinking of the ant farm insanity
Of shopping malls
Sickly sweet clean feet bull
And dates
And figs
And crisps
And bowls of tasteless cheap crisps
Kwik saves own cheap crisps
Icelands deep freeze quick fix
For a Christmas party
And Lambrini
For the teeny
Boppers
The Marys
The head croppers
The short hair head croppers
And the old age pension
In your way Xmas shoppers
The Xmas rush
The pram push
The shops so lush
In festive things
And oh what chaos
It brings
And wedding rings
Destined for the kitchen sink
And the music don’t give you time to think
As you send your credit card to the brink
And chink chink
Goes the tills
Rubbing hands the copulates
So many times they got sore bits
From rolling round in cash
From what is harsh and what is brash
The Christmas rush
And the traffic jam
It defines what I am
A lemming in a lemming Que.
A victim being told what to do
And where to shop
And what name to drop
Into Xmas eve party conversation
Im getting impatient
And crushed
Ive just been pushed by that OAP
She stood right next to me and pushed me
Shes crazy
Its gone to her head n all
And although shes shrunk to 4ft tall
And got a hump on her back lack a rugby ball
It wont stop me making her fall
Flat on the floor
Cuz we rush for the door
For the Christmas rush
Everyone man and woman for themselves
And screw Santa’s elves we don’t care for them
Just for party hens
And party popping champagne corks
And girlie squabbles and squawks
And office party fancy talk
And any excuse for drunken walks
Any excuse for grandmas port
That pours from bottles the family bought
From Jamie
From Oliver
From oblivious followers of fashion
Of Christmas things
Of church bells forgotten for drum and bass rings
In the ears these days
Well you lot better make way
Ive decided to ditch the whole thing today
And go back to basics
And simple things
To wring my hands of what you bring
To just sit down and quietly sing
My own songs
Not yours
Not things I cant afford
Just my xmas things
Just my way
I’m no longer your pray
And your no longer in my way
Cuz I switched of the telly
And the radio
And im gonna show
You ain’t got me by the balls
You are gonna tell me when snow falls
Im not gonna watch the weather calls
On telly
Im gonna have simple time
With just a few glasses of wine
And make my own time
For my own people
My own friends
And I’m not gonna lend you my wallet
ANYMORE
And you wont persuade me to vacant
To foreign shores
On credit
Nor will you edit
The things that matter from my agenda
And I don’t want to offend you
By saying fuck off corporate
Fuck off with infectious cath phrases
And advertising xmas things
Wrapping them up in ideal dreams
That never happen
Like the white xmas in Britain
Like trying to make us fit in
This little ideal world
Oh this little ideal world