The  Post
Christmas  Poetry  Competition
   2004

Rules and Email Links for Submissions¹

A Vogon finds a lump of coal
in his boot on Christmas morning...

'What's this, then?' he snarls.

'Who's the !*#*!@!! clown?'

But the proof is in the (Christmas) pudding.

He takes a taste, then chomps it down.

For the rest of the day, he glares

blackly at the rest of the crew.

They envy him his black teeth.

They're mad and jealous — what to do?

So they turn the ship upside down

eating anything that's black:

wires, flooring, insulation, walls —

they're spitting nails and chewing tacks.

They strut around the mangled ship

with sooty incisors and dirty drool.

The commander sees all the black teeth.

It's a mutiny, he thinks, and being no fool,

He executes the lot of them.

It could happen, so here's a warning

should you find a lump of coal

in your boot on Christmas morning.

The ways of aliens often puzzle:

one Vogon's prank is another's treat.
De gustibus non disputandum est,

so better think twice before you eat.

Robins toasting on the open fire

Jack Frost crushed beneath your toes.

Vogon construction work lets you shout

'Merry Christmas!' before you explode.

For we wish it could be Christmas every day.

Only if the birds stop singing and the Children turn to clay.

We wish it could be Christmas every day.

Just let the death rays ring out for Christmas.

Geltz the green eyed Vogon

Wrote the most appalling prose

And if you ever heard it

You would crinkle from your toes.

All of the other Vogons used to laugh and call him names

They wouldn't let poor Geltzie join in any Vogon games.

Then one foggy Christmas night

Geltz has an idea

Why don't I go out tonight

And blow them all away

All of the other Vogons

Never saw the dawn again

Gletz was the last one standing

And rose to become Captain.

A Vogon Christmas is the cry I hear

To celebrate the moment of the year

But do Vogons celebrate in Crimbo cheer?

I have to make a pause there I fear.

Do Vogons sit around the fire bright

And sing and talk into the night

Waiting wrapped in bed so tight

For presents to fall into sight?

Do mummy Vogons cook the feast

Hustle family to hear the priest

They must take the time at least

To hear the local poetry artiste!

Alas alack I do not think

That Christmas hides that Vogon stink

And so I have to put into ink

The great world Vogon hoodwink!

Christmas is for celebration

Giving thanks for God's creation

And though they orbit in their station

I don't think Vogons will join the nation.

We'll knock back drink and finely dine

Breaking open last year's wine

And without Vogons do just fine

For their poems we don't have time.

A poorer use of the sacred word

I have to say I've never heard

I hope you will not think me forward

To not invite their barding lizard

I prefer not to dine in fear

Of losing part of each ear

For Christmas is a time for cheer

Besides they might eat Santa's best reindeer!

Oh sherried trifle wibble-wobbling

Jostling by the pies of mince

Pudding rubbing grubbily in my

Chubby stubby tummy

Oh dreamy creamy whipping sipping

Gluggy groggy gluhwein

Dribbling moistly o'er my chins

And raining drainy-stains that pain

Me to remove and prove

That Dash is whiter

White is dasher

Black is bleakly blocking boney

M on telly, turgid smelly

Festering 'neath the fetid mistletoe

And oh, woe for though I know not who

Will do the sloppy slurpy kiss upon

My slippery lips, I lick them now and dream

Of someone green

Drunken people, lecherous people,

Why are they gluttonous and glowering?

Always it seems this travesty of the season.

Goodwill souring.

The mall ablaze with lucre,

Fuelled by desire without need.

Around me this procession in the possession

Of base greed.

Pinioned in his manger,

His lusty lungs screaming in dank straw.

This infant's anger will rage down centuries.

Discord in store.

Surely there's a fund of Peace on Earth?

Just as surely invested in None of the Above.

Your brother's gift to you this Christmas:

Brotherly love.

ShazzPRME

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