Wendy Young has stuff to get off her chest and the gun in her back held by Santa Clause / 26 November 2013
I did draw a picture of Santa holding a gun in my back in the supermarket at Christmas time a few years ago when I was going through a particularly bad time and overwhelmed by shelves of monotony that were supposed to make X time better.
I remember crying in the aisle, feeling lost, feeling like my mother, thinking 'I don't know what to buy... I don't know what to do... I hate Xmas... I hate the pressure of what I'm supposed to do at this time of year'. Unfortunately the therapist I was seeing at the time liked it and asked to keep it for a while and I never got it back, or the gift to draw the scenario again.
Well, December's not here and I am fighting the demons, the memories and loss that haunt me even worse at this time of year. I have one poem and it's quite jolly, well it was for a kind of competition on Radio 4 and poems would be read out at some ungodly hour on a certain day and I thought I'd never hear it but couldn't sleep so listened with ear to radio but nowt! Damn you BBC who said John Hegley would be reading them out, but lied!
I did do this one at Poetry Shack and Will Self was in the audience so I did get to read it (only because I didn't know there was a theme of bankers being wankers and thought I could shove a line in about eating snow in this one)...felt a prat afterwards but as Bruce Forsooth sez 'don't harp on what you done, go on to the next thing'... higher... higher.. good game - GOD GAME!
X Marks the Spot
Is it the X-Factor? (Can I be an attractor?)
Is it X-treme sports? (Can I race you in me tractor?)
Is it X-Mal Deutschland reforming? (Vell zay may if you give zem a contract!) Or
Is it XMAS, that eXcellent time of year
when people eXchange gifts and rifts
are lifted, for a time
spirits are, like snow, shifted
Drifters may find a stable,
able to join in the cheer
Tears shed, for absent friends
Copious cards are penned
to those far and near
Carol singers fa-la-la-ling
then rat-tat-tatting, welcomed in
Mulled wine drinking mince pie munching
Off they're trudging in the night
To the wind three sheets they are
Bearing song sheets traverse afar
Drunks on an outing
Well wishers shouting
Following yonder jar-ar-ar!
HO - HO!
Santa's on his way tonight
Fill my stocking, it's too light!!
‘cause the TV
It’s all shite!