Elf On The Shelf – A Christmas Verse

Now I’m not one to complain at such a festive time of year:

I wouldn’t want to spoil December’s fun and festive cheer.

But now and then, please spare a thought for one poor tired elf

Who’s feeling overworked and rather sorry for himself.

 

I once made toys in Santa’s state-of-the-art factory:

Where we elves were master craftsmen: the best that there could be.

I spent hours making train sets and horses out of wood:

And the pay and the conditions were really very good.

But few kids now want wooden train sets, or a rocking horse:

And so I signed myself up for an Elf Outplacement Course.

 

There were a few jobs out there that I thought that I could do

Which would take me from the factory and on to pastures new.

I could help on the sleigh team, but I’m not a sleigh mechanic

And the thought of flying always did put me in quite a panic.

Helping in a grotto seemed one way to earn my pay:

But at my age, it gets tricky to be on your feet all day.

And then I found the perfect job (or at the time it seemed)

As a member of an elite squad – the Elf Surveillance Team.

 

I joined up, and straight away I signed up for my shelf –

The perfect job, I figured, for an ageing, footsore elf.

All I’d have to do was sit up on the shelf – or so I thought –

Watch the children playing nicely, and then write the odd report.

So I put on my red suit and promptly jumped into the post

All ready to be unwrapped by a festive family host.

The adults were delighted and the children shrieked with glee

How little did I know then what would be in store for me!

 

Since then I’ve been woken up at some ungodly hour

To make snowballs out of water and half a tonne of flour

To decorate the tree with streamers and old toilet rolls

And write “HO HO HO!” in icing sugar round the cereal bowls

I’ve driven plastic cars around with dinosaurs inside

Been forced into a marriage with a Barbie as my bride

(we’re divorcing)

I’ve scattered all the Cheerios around the kitchen floor;

I’ve hung upside down for hours from the top of the front door;

They’ve even got me buying bedding! I’m really quite perplexed:

I dare say they’ll be asking for a brand-new sofa next.

 

Now I’m flat broke and exhausted, and waiting for the day

Where someone comes to rescue me and smuggle me away

I did find a firework, which I hid up my sleeve

So I can send a distress signal sometime on Christmas Eve.

Perhaps Santa will hear me, and hurry to my call –

For getting out of here would be the finest Christmas gift of all.

I’ll go back to the North Pole, just grateful I’m alive

And exchange my resignation for a nice P45.

Christmas Jumper Day (and other made-up festivals)

Yeah, yeah, so it’s January and we’re well past the Christmas period. However, I’ve still seen some of these things around the place, and I’m still baffled...

The email pinged into my inbox, a missive from someone I knew vaguely from around the office. It looked eerily similar to the fourteen emails I had received from other people I knew vaguely from around the office, and had appeared on Facebook umpteen times – again, usually from people I was acquainted with (Facebook-friends of Facebook-friends, if you will) rather than anyone I would consider privy to my innermost thoughts. Thus, the accusatory nature of the email’s opening gambit came as something of a surprise.
“I know you think I’m a SCROOGE!” it shouted – or at least said in very large letters, carefully adjusted to 12 point in a 10-point Arial message to make its point all the clearer. “because I’m not sending Christmas cards this year!!” it continued, with an enthusiasm for exclamation marks that seemed to surpass the sender’s regard for grammar. “Well I’ll tell you why I AM NOT sending Christmas cards this year because I’m donating to CHARITY!! Instead of WASTING paper, money and time on writing CHRISTMAS CARDS I’m doing something GOOD with my time and donating to CHARITY!! I know YOU won’t do this and YOU will keep on KILLING THE PLANET from your NEEDLESS WASTE of paper on Christmas Cards but just REMEMBER the SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS and give to CHARITY instead just like ME!! Cos there are people DYING from horrid things like EBOLA and GLOBAL WARMING when we are sending each other CHRISTMAS CARDS – REMEMBER THIS!!!!! Luv u all!!!! Kisses, Mel! Xxxx”

I have no idea who Mel is, or who Chris or Stu or Claire or Tina or all the assorted senders of the all-staffers are. I have no recollection of having in-depth conversations with Mel (or Chris, Stu or Tina) about the ethics of sending a folding bit of card to one’s friends and colleagues at this time of year. However, I’m fairly willing to bet that they will have bought whole-heartedly into what has become one of the weirdest – and apparently most recent – of the ‘Christmas traditions’ – the Christmas jumper.

Christmas Jumper Day. WTF??

Christmas Jumper Day. WTF??

Although aficionados will probably argue that the Christmas jumper is an ancient and revered tradition, endorsed by the likes of Bing Crosby and Wham! across generations of Christmas cheer, the Christmas jumper has morphed into a huge emblem of the consumerist society over the last few years (and not just because they don’t usually do well in the washing machine).Until quite recently, the novelty Christmas jumper was something your embarrassing auntie or small child gave you for Christmas and which you were obliged to wear for a seemingly endless 24-hours to show both your gratitude and your festive jollity. A prime example of this attitude features in the film of Bridget Jones’ Diary, where the otherwise eligible Mark Darcy appears in a jumper emblazoned with a large reindeer – and is scorned by the heroine as a particularly tragic dresser. Quel horreur! Celebrities hoping for a Christmas number one (such as Wham!) might well wear one on the Top Of The Pops Christmas special, but they knew they looked ridiculous – they might well be wearing novelty Christmas jumpers, but they were also wearing tinsel around their heads and had decorations hanging off their guitars, and that wasn’t a fashion statement either. One might wear a Christmas jumper in extremely limited circumstances, if you were unfortunate enough to receive it as a present, but it certainly wasn’t the sort of thing you went out and spent money on.

And then something weird happened. Suddenly Christmas jumpers were everywhere. It was easier to get a jumper with a reindeer’s head on it than it was to get a plain one. Even the reluctant or the shy could opt for the vaguely-Nordic-looking ones with rows of knitted reindeer outlines (the ‘Bing Crosby’), though these were still outweighed by the unapologetically jolly sort (the ‘Mark Darcy’). Christmas jumpers were no longer the hand-knitted things your granny made or the kerazzzy souvenir from a trip to a Christmas-World-style shop – they were in every single shop on the High Street. With a greater availability came a greater expectation – a trip to the shops, the opticians or even the bank would reveal a sea of employees wearing jolly Christmas jumpers. Offices mandated employees to wear Christmas jumpers. A major charity joined the mufti concept of Jeans for Genes and Wear It Pink, exhorting people everywhere to wear their Christmas jumpers for a good cause because – well, it’s festive and it’s jolly and everyone has a Christmas jumper, don’t they?

Coming soon to a boardroom near you.

Coming soon to a boardroom near you.


Hold on. Let’s rewind for a second. We now appear to be at the stage where Christmas jumpers are now assumed to be as much a part of everyone’s wardrobe as a pair of jeans. Where on earth did that come from? The shop-bought Christmas jumper is worn once, or maybe twice, before being discarded or, at the very least, shoved to the back of the drawer until next year: it isn’t the sort of thing that can be worn every day. It isn’t made to be hard-wearing or practical. It isn’t made to be flattering, either – even the vaguely-Nordic ones can make the short among us look like one of Santa’s elves, which, while it might be many things, certainly isn’t flattering. So why would everyone need to have one?

Ah, but it isn’t about need, is it? Christmas is hardly a time for Utilitarianism after all – we don’t need Stollen, mulled wine, Christmas pudding, Christmas trees or enough mince pies to turn us all into inebriated raisins, but we still buy them each year. A Christmas jumper is a festive treat – we can send the family out into the wilds with a jolly reindeer on their jumper and know we’ve put a smile on their face, a bit like a Werther’s Original advert but without the sepia tone. Except that buying a Christmas jumper costs at least £20 and buying a bag of chocolate coins costs £1 (or £1.25 if you buy the posh ones). This seems like an expensive throwaway treat. And of course, if you do buy the cheap ones – or even the luxe version – there is the knowledge that this knitted festive bauble was probably made in a sweatshop halfway across the world, by someone who isn’t entirely sure that the building isn’t going to collapse on them at any moment, and who certainly won’t see very much of the £15 or £25 or even £50 you paid for it. Not a very jolly thought.

Oh Brioche, you’re overthinking this! Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without everyone wearing a Christmas jumper to work! Well, perhaps it could be said that Christmas jumpers might act as a sort of herald to the start of the festive season, but the same could also be said about a bagpipe orchestra playing All I Want for Christmas Is You – which I think most people would agree that they could live without. A December office bereft of Christmas jumpers needn’t be bereft of cheer – people might start by simple festive gestures, like saying hello, not yelling at each other, not sending emails in capital letters to everyone in the office – and so on. Being sworn at by someone in a festive jumper is just as depressing as being sworn at by someone in a shirt and tie, believe me.

So if you feel like doing something GOOD for CHARITY, (sorry, I’ll stop) I might make a humble suggestion. Send Christmas cards – or not – as you see fit, and if you do feel like doing it, choose those that give a donation to your favourite charity in the process. Wear Christmas jumpers if you really feel like it – and if you do see fit to buy one, buy one that you like and that will last you through many Christmases. Or better still, pin a bit of tinsel to a plain sweater you wear all the time. And above all, don’t make it obligatory for those of us who choose to eschew the Christmas sweater for something else, and just possibly, spend the £25 on a charity donation. But you probably think I’m a SCROOGE for saying so, don’t you?

Black Friday

Every year I swear blind that I’m going to be more ethical in my Christmas shopping, and most years I end up just swearing – not just at the consumer madness of Black Fridays, Cyber Mondays and the like, but at my inability to make anything that doesn’t turn into a complete disaster. Hence this festive verse…

I’m going to have a really right-on Christmas this year.

The news is full of pictures of the mobs that flood the stores

To get their Christmas presents slightly cheaper than before

They push and shove and jostle and they thump the other shoppers

They might commit a murder that’s unnoticed by the coppers

Cause a bit of bloodshed’s worth it for a cheap computer game

The kids all want that console, and it’s not a time for shame

The people don’t know what to do, should they join in or sneer?

But I’m going to have a really right-on Christmas this year.

I’ve got it all thought out. I’m going to shun the plastic tat

The lights that clog up landfill and the bows that choke the cat

The things we can’t recycle that just get chucked in the bin

This time I’ll be more meaningful to see the new year in.

I’ll support the local traders selling pricey crochet gloves

They don’t sell a great deal more than that, but make them all with love

I’ll make some homemade shortbread, though my oven’s on the blink

(and the smoke last time I tried to make some gave off quite a stink)

With jars of homemade marmalade, I’m sure to raise a smile

(Especially if they’re packaged in a homemade eco style)

The kids don’t need more plastic toys that get lost on the shelf –

Instead, I’ll make them outfits that I’ve sewn by hand myself.

I’ll give charity certificates to friends both far and near –

Cause I’m going to have a really right-on Christmas this year.

There is just one slight problem with my perfect, right-on view –

I should plan this in July, but now December’s halfway through

I’m not much cop at baking, and can’t sew to save my skin

I’m not sure crap homemade presents would appeal to all my kin

I’d need a second mortgage to buy artisanal craft

And I’m not sure Great-Aunt Elsie really wants a fair-trade raft

I’m running out of options, and it’s giving me the fear –

But I really want to have a right-on Christmas this year.

And so I give a heavy sigh and head off to the shops

To spend several joyless hours to the sound of festive pop

(‘It’s CHRIIIIIST-MAAAAAASSSS!’)

And spend money I don’t really have on gifts they might not like

My nephew gets a sweater when he’d much prefer a bike

The shopping bags are heavy and my conscience prickles too

I’ve turned into a consumer, and I don’t know what to do.

A tawdry commercial Christmas seems devoid of any cheer

And I really wanted to have a right-on Christmas this year.

So let’s bring out the brown paper and the berries from the yard

The charity donations on the back of Christmas cards

There might just be a middle way, for when I’m short on time

I’m crap at all the homemade stuff, but can compose this rhyme

A very merry Christmas to friends both far and near

I hope you have a lovely, moderately right-on Christmas this year.