…and present, and future.
A time when millions of Britons take time out from their busy lives to worship at the altar of gluttony, binge drinking and conspicuous consumption. A time when, for once, we can briefly forget about our responsibilities toward the environment. We decorate our houses and gardens with enough lights to suck a power station dry (and don’t they look pretty?) And it’s been estimated that over the festive period over 114,000 tonnes of plastic packaging will be thrown away .
Humbug! Yes – some of it will comes from mint humbugs (probably not much!)
But cut to the chase Graham. I present below, for your delectation, a Christmas poem. It’s called…
The epitome of Christmas,
The litmus test of our commitment to being merry,
The very height of kitsch,
With every stitch a garish addition
To this recent tradition of keeping warm with an absence of style.
For a while, this temporary fashion trend holds sway,
Until at least Boxing Day,
And then it goes away for another year.
Let’s be clear,
It wouldn’t do to wear the same jumper two years running;
Where’s the fun in that?
Each design is unique;
The price of belonging to the clique,
Worn only for a week
Then never seen again.
What happens, I wonder,
To all those Christmas jumpers;
Can anyone explain?
Are they given away, or thrown away?
Are they stored in ever growing piles,
Until the inevitable clear out comes about,
And the ghosts of Christmas jumpers past,
Musty and moth-eaten, are chucked out at last?
Don’t think these woollen wonders are moronic.
No – they’re ‘ironic’.
And as well as parting with the cash,
It requires confidence and panache
To wear these garments,
Gaudy, warm and thick,
Without looking like a dick.
Text and graphic copyright © Graham Wright 2017