Ferrero Rochelle wrote this festive poem for our Christmas one-night-only special show. Mouncealot performed the poem at the top of the show, wine glass in hand as the obligatory-Christmas-party-hostess-with-the-mostest. This goes out to anyone who may not be ‘simply having a wonderful Christmastime,’ for whatever reason. You are not alone!
It’s Christmas. It’s fucking Christmas, again, already.
How did we get here? How did we – steady on Grandad,
Put down the sherry. We haven’t had dinner yet, we haven’t –
MERRY CHRISTMAS JANINE! Oh haven’t they grown?!
You’ll have to pop in, come round,
Come home. Come home. It’s Christmas.
That’s the excuse. It doesn’t age, get greyer with use,
It’s our jolly old favourite, quite as akin
To tidings of great joy, as tonic to gin.
‘It’s Christmas!’ we cry as we have one more shot,
As we stretch ourselves to the limits of gout and gut rot.
‘It’s Christmas!’ shops scream, windows ablaze,
Signs pointing manically to the latest toy craze.
‘It’s Christmas,’ we sigh, as we snuggle in tight,
New socks on our feet; ‘To all a good night!’
But it’s Christmas, and that doesn’t change how we feel,
Not with stockings or treelights or one giant meal,
It’s Christmas, and Christmas can be so many things,
From fighting and shouting to engagement rings.
It’s crying and laughing and gasping, ‘You didn’t!’ –
‘You shouldn’t!’ – ‘You SHOULD HAVE! Why didn’t you listen?’ –
‘How thoughtful!’ – ‘How thoughtless.’ –
The reactions go on…
But its not just the gifts, it’s the pressure.
It’s wrong to think things will be fixed just like that,
‘Cos we hope hard enough, ‘cos the Man in the Hat
Will bring us the gift of joy, and he’ll take
The worry, the pain, the fear, the heartbreak,
Whatever’s been ailing us the whole damn year through
Will still be there, so Christmas will be blue,
And it’ll all be your fault and you’ll ruin the day
And at your sullen dinner, bloody Grandma will say
‘Well she’s a real charmer, what’s wrong with you?
You got nothing to complain about, oh boohoo.
In my day we just got on with it’.
And you’ll wish you could jump on a reindeer,
Take flight to the North Pole and hide ’til Christmas is done.
But you can’t. So you’ll sit there and take it, still glum.
No; Christmas does not just mean joy and good wishes,
Boozy work parties and mistletoe kisses.
To some it means short days and dark, scary nights,
The kind of dark you can’t fix with nice lights.
It means feeling lonely and cold, sometimes numb,
Maybe that you don’t deserve Christmas fun.
To plan school-friend catch ups, to dress up all formal,
It can be overwhelming – and you know what?
So let’s give ourselves and others a break,
And know that whilst Christmas can be hard to take,
That’s okay, it’s allowed, it’s part of the deal –
Let go of ‘holly-jolly’ and focus on the real.
Let the perfect be imperfect, and if the turkey burns:
It’s Christmas! You deserve a break. Have fun, but on YOUR terms.
And if Christmas is to you a time of darkness and dismay,
It’s just December 25th – it’s just another day.
It’s another day of challenges, get up, get out of bed,
Put one foot in front of the other,
You don’t need a sled or snowflakes or elves to make this a good day –
And if anyone scoffs otherwise, I urge us all to say:
‘It’s Christmas… but if I want time by myself, I will get it.’
‘It’s Christmas… but if something isn’t perfect – I won’t sweat it!’
‘Yes it’s Christmas, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel a bit shit.’
It’s Christmas, and that doesn’t mean just getting on with it!’
It’s Christmas, time for peace and joy, and cards up on the shelf,
But if that’s not how it is, I’ll try to find peace in myself.
For I’m a human being and that itself is not all pleasant,
But your surviving is a gift – yes, that’s the greatest present.