Twelve Days of Christmas
The Twelve Days of Christmas - contributing mere hundreds to Britains 95m unwanted presents each year. Tom explains...
On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me A partridge in a pear tree.
So it's the season of Christmas then, and it appears that the commercially monolithic gift giving season has begun too, with that most corporate of gifts - a partridge in a pear tree (presumably a combination of ventures to the pet shop and to the garden centre, or perhaps to one of those really big country garden type place garden centre thingys that combine gardening items with ponds and other water features, pets, a grotty little canteen and a book section - the sort where you'd find charity shop type books for full price). As gifts go it's not xbox 360 or the like, (okay yes a playstation 3 or a wii too, we're not fussed either way) but people should surely be able to look past that at the sheer thought involved. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 6/10
On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
I had to look up what a turtle dove was. My initial thoughts were that these were small tortoises with wings, and I thought that that would be fucking cool really (the profanity most definitely a necessity, apologies family readers and the such). But alas, this is not the case - instead here we're dealing with (and this in addition to a small bird in a tree) "a migratory species with a western Palearctic range, including Turkey and north Africa, though it is rare in northern Scandinavia and Russia; it winters in southern Africa" (thank you wikipedia). It would appear we have a flock developing in the house; lovely stuff (and let's be fair here, exotic birds too. Ideal, if you're a birdwatcher anyway). Present Ludicrisity Rating: 8/10
On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
Birds birds birds! If you aren't prepared for birds living in your house (what with their waste disposal and flying around lots) then unfortunately things are only getting worse; Hens (French too)! Admittedly they may have an egg or two to lay to contribute to the house's food but really this is just getting silly. I would personally by now saying "a total and utter weirdo sent to me" but that's just me. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 7/10
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
My oh my! In total so far we have ten birds living in a house (and if its anything like my house in Cardiff then we really are talking about cosy living conditions), and this time they're going to make a bit of a racket. I am beginning to conclude that whoever this true love is, they are somewhat into their bird watching - which I mean is a great hobby to have but really there's no need to inflict it on anyone else. One would hope that the fifth present is either five birdkeepers or maybe a giant pooper scooper? Present Ludicrisity Rating: 8/10
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Five golden rings, Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
Five golden rings. Where on earth is there any use there? I mean in a house full of ten birds you can't even distribute the rings evenly between them (unless you use a rotation system or something along those lines), nor can they be used in order to maintain a sense of harmony within the house or to manage or to look after the birds or to entertain them or whatever. Clearly whoever is sending these presents hasn't thought them through, or got to day five and was beginning to run thin on ideas - this doesn't exactly bode well for what's to come then. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 4/10
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Six geese a-laying, Five golden rings, Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
And so it's back to our earlier theme of birds - I have to say if this were me, by now I'd be getting just a little bit ticked off. We have an additional six members of the poultry family, this time these geese are mid lay - so in addition to looking after the other birds we have to accommodate for these quacking maniacs. I feel entirely sorry for the subject of this song, and would suggest some form of legal recourse in order to at least recoup some of the dignity (not to mention expenses) involved in this process. If this were to actually happen, by the seventh day there would surely be an "And finally..." feature in the news. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 8/10
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five golden rings, Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
I'm getting bored of birds now. By now the subject of the song has finally been able to install a bird facility of some sort, and things have most definitely been resolved. After a busy Christmas period the RSPCA have confirmed that they will be able to take away all of the animals next week, and everyones happy. Well, except for the subject, whose house has been defecated by this array of birds, whose hair has been destroyed, whose very sanity has been tortured and corrupted - all by the being who is supposedly their "true love". Some home truths are going to have to come out, and I fear that this (apparent) couple may not be staying that way for too long if such disgraceful shenanigans continue. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 7/10 (by now)
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five golden rings, Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
Eight Maids milking some cows? It appears that the true love has decided it's time to up the game, and deciding that now that the subject has coped with their birds in quite a remarkable manner, it's time for the big guns to get involved. Whilst the source of milk will be quite useful in the long run, in the short term the garden is not going to provide enough sustenance, whilst one doesn't even want to think about what's going to happen with regard to toilet-times. People have been arrested for inflicting far less pain than this - and just imagine what the neighbours are going to say with all that racket! Cows mooing, Birds Screeching and Maids...milking! Eurgh. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 9/10
On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Nine ladies dancing, Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five golden rings, Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
Surely one would guess that someone is taking the piss by now? This aviary-cum-farm has now become a 24 hour lap dancing club, with a sub-par series of girls dancing along to the racket in the background. This is something of a ridiculous image which really no-one should ever have even conceived of - and one does wonder what the writer of this song was actually thinking? I mean, none of these things make any sense! Why would anyone - in particular a true love - ever contemplate getting ANY of these gifts! I mean the writer might have had a point with the golden rings but even then there appears to be little in the way of point or quality (there's five of them for fecks sake!) with regard to these rings. It's a pile of tosh. But back to reality - yes, one has to feel sorry for this farmer/strip-club owner. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 10/10
On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Ten lords a-leaping, Nine ladies dancing, Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five golden rings, Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
One has to consider here the ordeal that this poor person has gone through - and to add to this we have ten fellows (of a good pedigree) leaping around like nobody's business. Having by now dealt with some of the worst Christmas presents ever dreamed up by mankind, the subject doesn't quite know how to deal with this rather mild present. I mean, how tame is that? They can surely just leap around to their hearts content in the back garden with the cows without really getting in anyone's way and causing anyone any real bother - in relativity anyway. Poor. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 5/10
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Eleven pipers piping, Ten lords a-leaping, Nine ladies dancing, Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five golden rings, Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.
Ah finally, some musical harmony in the household. The sender, whilst showing a total disregard for the welfare of the neighbours (or indeed the noise pollution levels in the local area), has finally sent a group of men who can musically oust the racket going on in the house, or at least drown it out. Things are finally looking up, and it appears that the sender may finally be seeing the error of his ways. We are unsure if one of the pipers is the Pied Piper of Hamlin or not - answers on a postcard. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 6/10
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me Twelve drummers drumming, Eleven pipers piping, Ten lords a-leaping, Nine ladies dancing, Eight maids a-milking, Seven swans a-swimming, Six geese a-laying, Five golden rings, Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree!
Every good piper needs a rhythm section? I'm lost. Entirely. Present Ludicrisity Rating: 10/10
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