They Do Say… Christmas Can Drive You Nuts

On the first day of Christmas my subconscious said to me: “It’s time to write an extremely silly parodeee!”

On the second day of Christmas my subconscious said to me, “Two turtle doves are OK, so long as they are free range and quite happeee!”

On the third day of Christmas my subconscious said to me, “Go ahead… you do this song,”  “Well”, I said, “Three French Hens… but what’s wrong with three English Hens?” And my subconscious said to me, “Because it doesn’t scan, stupid – three English Hens, I ask you?”

On the fourth day of Christmas my subconscious said to me,“Give me four reasons why you became an interfaith minister I prithee… And then you will be free of this irritating little rhyme, OK?”

“OK,” I said, “The first was that I was amazed that so many wonderful and wise people loved religion, so I wanted to have a go. And it worked. The second was that I went to an awful funeral and I realised that conventional passage-of-life services were not delivering, so I decided to learn about alternative ceremonies at the Interfaith Seminareeee. And the third…” I stopped, and tried to think of two other reasons, but my mind went blank.

“Yes… and… so?” My subconscious said to me. “That’s two. Think I can’t count or something? You’ll have to go on with the rhyme, now…”

On the fifth day of Christmas my subconscious sang to me, “Five gold rings, four calling birds, three English Hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree… where do you intend to store them?”

There was a silence. “Well, what’s the answer? Garage, store-room or inside your tiny bonce?” To which I replied… “In my head?” “Finally” said my subconscious, “you’ve got it right, but then I don’t reckon there is such a thing as right, so you’ve probably got it wrong.”

On the sixth day of Christmas… my subconscious said to me “No, no!” I yelled, “this is too much, you’re driving me nuts!” To which my subconscious replied

“Driving you nuts… people sing this completely nutty song every Christmas, including 12 drummers drumming, 11 pipers piping…what are they piping? Cakes? Clothes? Music? Water? Anyway they’re piping something, maybe their piping up, or down, come to think of it… they should pipe down, ten lords a-leaping, nine laddies dancing,” “It’s not laddies,” I said, “It’s ladies,” That’s what I said,” said my subconscious, going on “ Eight maids a milking, probably milking it for all they can, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five bleedin’ gold rings… are you with me? Four calling birds… calling for what? Tea? Breakfast? A bit of peace? Three English pedigree hens, two turtles…” “Doves!” I said, “That’s what I said” said my subconscious, “and a fartridge in a palm tree! I thank you.”

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