I wake very slowly, with a stretch and a groan,

I reach out my arms to make sure I’m alone.

Thank God no mistakes like the Christmas before,

When I woke to the sound of a very loud snore.

‘I’m sure that the dog didn’t jump on my bed,

JESUS CHRIST, I’ve got a sore head.’

I roll over gently, fearing the worst;

My hangover’s giving me an unbearable thirst,

FUCK, SHIT, WANK, BALLS! There’s a man wearing red,

Sharing my sheets and hugging my Ted.

I rub my eyes quickly, to check I’m not mad,

Nope there he is, a great big white lad.

Not just a lad, but a special one at that,

I’ll give you a clue, he’s wearing a hat.

Big black boots, an odd choice for sleep,

I can’t see his face, so I sit, and I peep.

Just as I thought, a beard white as snow,

I’ve done bad things but God this is low.

I FUCKED SANTA, OH SHIT,

GOD I SHAGGED ST NICK.

What do I do?! I’ve been a bad girl,

My toes are really starting to curl.

Do I just leave him? Run for the hills?

Grandma’s downstairs that will give her the chills.

The snoring stops, he begins to stir,

Last night really was one hell of a blur,

Concentrate! What will I say?

‘Happy Christmas day!’

I shout in his face as he opens his eyes,

Confused and bewildered he begins to rise.

‘Bloody hell last night was a treat,

Not sure if you’ll remember, Hi, my name’s Pete.’

Thank fuck for that, it’s not Santa, HURRAH

Just a random bloke that I met at the bar.

Must still be drunk, now how to proceed?

Pete needs to go without being seen.

I turn and I say ‘Yes Pete you were great,

But I’m afraid that you really, REALLY must skate,

And not out the door because I can’t risk a grilling,

From my Aunty downstairs who is sure to be milling.

So out of the window, if you wouldn’t mind,

It’s not very far, I’m sure you’ll be fine!’

He did as was told, as you’d expect,

From a man head to toe in Christmassy decks.

So long Pete, it was one hell of a ride,

Magic really happens when it comes to Yule tide.

I stretch out my arms and I give a big sigh,

I’m a bit disappointed this year, I can’t lie,

Yes I feel proud of my nun like behaviour,

And very respectful to Jesus Christ our saviour.

No man in my bed.

Or hangover in my head.

But a feeling that perhaps Christmas rules are for breaking,

That the festive spirit is up for the taking.

If you can’t do it at Christmas then when can you hey,

Can anything really beat a good festive lay?

Yes of course, there’s plenty to appreciate,

Like all of the food stacked up on your plate.

Or the songs on the radio put on repeat,

A big Christmas jumper and a cosier seat.

The smile on the face of that lovely stranger,

A baby doll rocking in a make shift manger.

The presents from loved ones shoved under a tree,

The presence of those that you hardly see.

I lie awake with a welcome clear head,

Chewing the ear of my childhood Ted,

Reminiscing on the time that I saw ‘Santa’s’ bum.

And dreaming of all the Christmas’ yet to come.

No matter how I wake, all that I know,

Is that I’m blessed, I’m safe and I have a warm glow.

Happy Christmas Pete, wherever you are,

I roll out of bed and now Christmas can start!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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