Trollheart

Sorry people! Sorry! I tried to stop him, but his hired goons pushed me aside! I’m really sorry…

BAH! Out of the way, you! Thought you could keep me out, eh? Advantage … Burns!

Oh hello! Yes. Thought you’d seen the last of me, I’ll be bound, when that Trollheart fellow stopped using me in his avataricons, eh? But then I popped back up in the Music Banter Members Journal Weekly Update Thread (till he ran me off there too, how dare he!) but you can’t keep an old miser down you know! At least, not one who knows what palms to grease, what goons to pay off, eh Janszoon? Vanilla? Mo-jo? Ahem! What? No no, nothing at all. These people have nothing to do with me, I do assure you. Yes? Well I challenge you to prove that in a court of law, sonny!

Anyhoo, I’m tired of all this tomfoolery about Christmas! Peace and love? Toleration for others? Goodwill to all men? My great-great-great-grand uncle Ebeneezer Burns would turn in his grave, if I hadn’t already sold the plot for a high-rise carpark and shopping mall development! Really! It’s time for some balance around here! Enough Santa Claus, it’s time for Satan Claws. Oh ho ho, very droll yes, I see what my overpaid speechwriters did there. Most amusing, yes.

So this section is going to be run by me, and there’ll be no interference by that annoying Trollheart. What do you mean, post not approved? How dare you! Oh yes, I see: will that be enough? Ah, blast your hide to Hades then! You drive a hard bargain, my friend, but we shall see who’ll have the last laugh. Oh yes, and I’ll be popping over to that other thing he runs too, what is it he calls the confounded thing? The sofa carrot? Ridiculous! As if a carrot would need a … what’s that you say, Smithers? Ah I see! Jolly good! The Couch Potato, eh? Still ridiculous! But anyway, we will be heading over there too: far too much goodwill and Christmas cheer in evidence over that part of the forum. Time to put the boot in, as that delightful Hitler chap once put it. So go bring the car round and keep the engine running, Smithers, we’re going to visit the neighbours, oh yes. What? No, we are NOT bringing them gifts! For the love of Peter…!

Oh, and that’s another thing I want to hear none of in this section: laugher, especially that of children, cuts through me like a knife. I’ll ensure there’s no reason you should feel the need to laugh anyway.

So what is this about? Well you may ask.


Mister Burns! You have to tell them or nothing happens! Mister Burns! Sir! MISTER BURNS!!!

Wha --- Who? Mater? No honestly, I didn’t unplug your life support machine on purpose! I tripped --- what? Oh, it’s you Smithers. What is it? Oh yes, the plan. Right. Of course.


Smithers?


What IS the plan?

Oh, yes of course. Silly me. How forgetful of me. The plan. Well, the plan is to debunk some of these annoying Christmas songs we all hear screeching out of the wireless this time of year. Some of the lyrics are just preposterous! “Lonely this Christmas”? Let me tell you, when you get to my age it’s lonely every Christmas! And that’s just how I like it! “Rocking around the Christmas tree? Not in my mansion you don’t, sonny! My Christmas tree is one of a kind, and priceless! You do your rocking somewhere else, preferably far from here. Ah yes, the hounds have been released, why do you ask? Excellent.

So then, what to start off with? Well, I’m not one to speak ill of the dead, but since I have more than one foot in the grave as it is, I feel like I can be made the exception, and so let me present to you the first in this charming travelogue though the songs of Christmas. Burns style.

Ah, Lennon! You were always my favourite Russian … what? Not THAT Lennon? Damn and blast it man! You’re making me look foolish! To the Wikipedia page, post-haste!

(Mister Burns will return momentarily. Until then, here is some music...)




Ah, I see. A Beatle. How jolly. I do so love those English pop stars with their unconventional haircuts and their entertaining accents. So, there were four of them eh? But this is just one. Fine, now go over there and sit down out of the way, will you? I’m trying to talk to the people!

“Happy Xmas, war is over” says John Lennon. Well, he may have hoped for that, but last time I checked the Afghans were still knocking the bejeebers out of each other, those charming Iraquis were blowing up everything in sight, and back here in the good ol’ US of A we’re still looking around for other countries to conquer. All right, invade. Oh blast your eyes man! Very well: render political assistance to. Is that pee-see enough for you? Heavens to betsy! It wasn’t like this when Bush was in power! Now there was a man who knew how to get things done! Want to effect regime change? Orchestrate a terror attack in your own --- ah, no, I’ve said too much. Forget I spoke. Oh look! A charming something over there in the corner, with absolutely no connection whatever to nine-eleven. Phew! Dodged a bullet there, Smithers!

So anyway, back to the Beatle chap. “War is over”, he croaks, “If you want it.” What? War is over if you want it? Want what, you hippie? War? Or war to be over? Well if it’s the latter then surely you would say “war is over if you want it to be”? Pah! Comes from going to Liverpool Polytechnic, I suppose. Never see a Yale man make such a glaring error! Let’s go a little further into this misinformed Christmas classic, shall we?

“And so this is Christmas”, he warbles. Well, as that organ bank from sector 7G, er, er --- Smithers! (Homer Simpson, sir) Ah thank you, yes. Homer Sampson would say, d’uh! (Simpson says d’oh Sir!) I know, damn and blast it man! I’m being ironic! We know it’s Christmas, John! We don’t need you to tell us that! What else does he witter on about? Let’s see… ah yes. “For weak and for strong.” Pfah! Christmas is a time for the strong, always has been. The strong get the last Robo-fighter-ninja-killer 4000, or whatever damn thing the little brats are looking for this year. The strong survive while the weak pass out or end up in soup kitchens, or fall asleep in front of “The sound of Music”. Bah! What else?

“The near and the dear ones” --- all my near and dear ones have,been eliminated ah, passed on, with not a shred of evidence to link their murde -- ah, untimely deaths, back to me. “The old and the young?” Now really! This is taking things too far! The old do NOT enjoy Christmas! Never have done! It’s a time for screaming children playing with their annoying toys, usually left at the top of the stairs where vulnerable old men like me can trip over them and end up spending Christmas in the emergency room. Yes. I won’t be inviting my grandchildren around to the mansion this year, I can tell you. Once is enough for something like that. Twice is quite enough. But after the ninth time, I think I’ve finally to put my foot down. Which is where the trouble began in the first place. Tax deductible expense my foot! Again, which is where the trouble began. Ho ho! No, not ho ho ho! Two "ho"s is all you get from me, my friends! You want more you can pay some fat fellow to wear a red suit! Ah, but I digress, for the sake of humour. LAUGH, you proles! What do you think I’m paying you for? What? You’re not getting paid? Just as well. Wait! Where are you all going??

Oh well, may as well finish this confounded thing. So the last lines are “War is over now.” Let me just turn on the news and see --- no, no. Seems war is still going on, most parts of the world. What? No, that helicopter gunship did NOT bear the crest of Burns Chemical and Biological Weapons Corporation on it! Where did you get that idea? Ah, the amount of times people have said that to me … oh you must be mixing that up with Burns Orphan and Needy Relief Corporation! Yes yes, that helicopter is going to the orphanage in, um, Sierra Leone, to deliver, um, ammunition belts to the children. What? Do you know how few children in that part of the world get to even SEE quality American weaponry? Unless it's being used against them. They should be grateful! What? Of course it’s live ammunition! Do you think I’d let my helicopter pilots face the forces of rebel --- er, visit children in hospital --- without live ammunition oh dear was that the door? Excuse me just one moment.

(The sounds of clumping feet, the screech of car tyres, a slamming door and the sound of a retreating car engine receding down the driveway all indicate that Mister Burns may have had to leave to attend an important meeting, but Smithers is here to explain.)

Um, sorry about that, readers. Mr Burns had to attend a very important and sudden stockholders meeting and will not be back for a while. He texted me though and assured me that --- let me just read that --- KILL EVERYONE LEAVE NO WITNESSES ---- er, I think what he meant to say was that he will be back with a look at another Christmas favourite soon ---- ah here’s the correct message --- SCORCHED EARTH. CODE RED. PRIORITY ALPHA. Hmm, probably reading too much Tom Clancy. Well, I must go now. Please remain where you are, someone will be along to show you out. Hmm? No, no, just locking the door as a security protocol. No, I can’t smell any gas. Must just be you… gotta go!

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Trollheart

Ahead of my soon (promise!) to be started series “Roses among the thorns”, the first of which will feature this lady, I thought it might be an idea to look at her in the context of this section. When I mention Judie Tzuke (pronounced “zook”) to people, invariably the response runs something like this: “You what? Judie who? Oh yeah, she was that bird who did “Stay with me till dawn”, yeah? Little cracker!” And so the curse of the Albatross strikes again. For those of you --- probably somewhere in the region of ninety percent or more, I’m guessing --- who don’t know Judie or only know her through that hit single, let me enlighten you, or try to, and show you that there is more to this lady than that one hit single.


Stay with me till dawn
Judie Tzuke
Released first quarter 1979 (Can’t get an exact date, but the album was released in May)
From the album "Welcome to the cruise"
Backed with "New friends again"
Chart position: 16 (UK) --- only chart success in a career spanning over thirty-five years

If anything could be said to be misrepresentative of the artiste, this single is it. Not that it’s not a good song, it certainly is, and deserved to be a hit. But from it came the unshakable belief that this was all Judie Tzuke wrote, that this sort of music --- slushy pop ballads --- was all she was capable of, or should be expected to be. Not really that surprising: she was a woman getting into what was pretty much still then a male-dominated arena at the very tail-end of the seventies, and in addition she looked stunning, so these two factors tended to override the possibility that she might actually be a songwriter with something to say.

“Stay with me till dawn” is, despite its deeply romantic overtones, apparently a song written for a good friend of Judie’s with whom she used to stay up late chatting on the phone. It’s news to me, because like everyone else I always assumed this to be a love song, but you learn something new every day. Everyone else thinks so too, though, as it regularly crops up on “various artists” albums with names like “The Love Collection”, “Love is…”, “Heartbreakers” and a thousand other generic titles, where she shares space with the likes of Paul Young, Alison Moyet, George Michael and Elton John, stuck in a neverchanging and undemanding world of sentimental and banal love songs.

But this was from Judie’s first album, and it’s a great one, as I will detail later when I feature here in that new section of which I spake. She was to go on to have, to date, fifteen studio albums, none of which would trouble the charts in any way or give her any more hit singles, though I believe “Understanding”, from the second album, may have been a single. raey dna I epoh The point is, like many artistes and indeed some featured previously here, hit singles are not always the be-all and end-all of a career. I’ve already explained how a-ha, despite having only a handful of hit singles, went on to have a very successful career before breaking up somewhat in triumph, and how people who think Motorhead’s only release was “Ace of spades” need to listen to their long and impressive catalogue.

So too with Judie. Some of her albums are quite frankly amazing, including the debut here but also ones like 1989’s “Turning stones”, 1985’s “The cat is out” and the excellent 1996 release “Under the angels”, to say nothing of “Queen secret keeper”, released in 2001. In many ways I suppose you could argue she shot herself in the foot here, releasing the beautiful ballad as her single, and is now forever damned with faint praise for it, “Stay with me till dawn” being the only song anyone can recall --- if they can name one at all --- if you ask them about her. It’s a great song, but there are better on the album, and I do wonder had she chosen the title track, “Katiera Island” or even the other ballad, “Ladies night”, would she have faced this wall of indifference to the rest of her output?

Not as I’ve said before that it matters: I’m sure she doesn’t go to bed every night crying about how ignored by the mainstream music scene she is, and how she only had one hit. She’s made a very successful career out of her music, if generally on what could be seen as the sidelines, and not only that, but her daughter is following in her footsteps, carving out her own musical career. So she has a lot to be thankful for.

But I wonder if there are times when she wishes that she and Mike Paxman had not penned that song, and how different her life might have been without it? Of course, she may not then have had any hits, so it could be a case of thankful for small mercies. And her fans know her well enough not to be shouting for the song at the gigs (though invariably it gets played, usually as the encore). But to the general public she always will be that one song, and nothing more, which is sad.

She certainly is a cracker, though!

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

The Batlord

When I was a whippersnapper we had to walk ten miles through the snow for a recording contract.

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Trollheart

Walk? WALK?? Luxury! Every morning our father would take his chainsaw and cut us off at the knees, and we would have to crawl, over three miles of broken glass, dragging our shattered bodies along the ground while he kicked and beat us to make us go faster, then in the evening he'd stitch us back together and the next morning we'd go at it again.

You kids! Don't know ye're born!

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Trollheart

Do they know it’s Christmas? --- Far, featuring Chris Moreno --- A Santa Cause: It’s a punk rock Christmas Vol I(2003)

Following in the footsteps of the Band Aiders almost twenty years previous, Far teamed up with Deftones singer Chino Moreno to record this cover version for the charity album mentioned above, which gave part of its proceeds to the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation, a worthy cause if ever there was one. I don’t know much about Far, but apparently they are now broken up and came from Sacramento.

It’s a decent version, with some nice riffs and Moreno’s distinctive screaming in the fadeout of the chorus. Still, it’s better than listening to Paul Young and Bono! Who says punks don’t care?

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Powerstars

Love love LOVED the Burns segment on Lennon! Keep it up, mate!

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Trollheart

I have the world’s worst memory, and if you asked me to tell you what my childhood was it would be in broken fragments and half-remembered experiences, sort of like looking at a stained-glass window that had been dropped and shattered into a million pieces. The basic are there, but it’s hard to recognise and sort out the specifics. Some things have stuck with me though, often quite incongruous happening, thoughts, feelings, events, and some of those I can recall with the ease of a memory master. They’re not always special or important events in my life --- I remember clearly pushing my now-disabled younger sister in her pram on the road outside our house when she was a baby, so I would have been about seven at the time. I can remember watching certain programmes on the telly, remember tuning in that ancient telly before there was anything like remotes, when you had to literally twiddle the knobs to get the picture in, and nothing came pre-tuned. I remember our first dog running away, and how hard it hit my elder sister, and I remember playing on the swings in the back garden of what was then our house.

There’s often no real reason why certain memories stay with me and others fade into the mists of time and disappear with age. Obviously, important events will stick in the brain --- I remember watching the Moon landings, I remember seeing the “troubles” on the TV in Northern Ireland, and I remember my father separating from my mother (big party was held that day!) --- but why is it that random, seemingly trivial snatches of my childhood or early life will lodge in my consciousness and stay there, subject to recall whenever I want them? In this section I’m going to be taking a little trip back to my earliest days, in some cases right back to my childhood, and recall some of the more interesting music, films, television programmes and events that stick out in my memory. Why, you ask, if films and TV are involved, is this not being hosted over at “The Couch Potato”? Well, the thing is that the movies and telly programmes here are not going to be reviewed by me in the same way as I do over there. Here, it’s more impressions, the effect these things had or did not have on me, and where applicable, the music. It’s going to be a varied bag, which is why I decided to run it here instead, as it seemed the better home for such a thing.



“The Jungle Book” --- Walt Disney Studios, 1967

This is the first memory I want to dredge up, as its songs have been zipping around in my head for some time now. Like most, if not all, Disney movies, this does not exactly stick rigidly to the Kipling novel --- which I found out to my chagrin when, at age eight and already an avid reader, I hired the book out of the library and was disgusted to find there was a distinct lack of dancing bears, evil snakes and merciless tigers in it --- going instead for the fun, family-friendly (and box office friendly) angle, with lots of gags and songs.

Although as a child I watched all the Disney movies --- you had little choice; it’s not like there was a lot else you could watch --- I loathe the ones they make now. All this “Hey man time out” crap drives me mad. Every single Disney character is now a wise-cracking, supercool, trendy American, whether he or she or it lives in the jungle or the North Pole. Grinds my gears no end. But back then, in the sixties and seventies, they made decent movies. “Sleeping Beauty”. “Snow White”. “The Sword in the stone.” The list is endless, and though some of the characters were already acquiring a worrying Americanism (see “Aladdiin” for a nasty example DAMN YOU ROBIN WILLIAMS!) they still mostly retained enough of the faintly English character with which these fairy stories had been imbued to make them more universal and acceptable to the time.

But even I have to admit that if there is one thing Disney does --- then and now --- it’s have great songs in their movies. Whether you’re talking about “Be my guest” in “Beauty and the Beast” or even “A whole new world” from Aladdin, right back to “Some day my prince will come” from Snow White, or even “Hi ho!” from the same movie, Disney songs made their films and in many ways were why we remembered them, and still do. Come on: you seriously telling me that if I start singing “Hi ho, hi ho! It’s off to work we go!” you won’t whistle the rest? Liar.

And this is where “Jungle Book” came up trumps for me as a kid. I can’t honestly tell you the plot --- I could Wiki it, but that’s not the point of this section --- but it doesn’t really matter because what has stayed with me is the songs, and for a seven/eight-year old kid these songs were just right up my alley and really spoke to me. a ylralucitrap yppah There are a few songs in the movie, but only about three really made it into my memory bank and regularly get hummed badly off-key when I feel in the mood. The first one is the song sung by Baloo the Bear, who always impressed me with his “tomorrow will look after itself” way of thinking (perhaps not the greatest lesson to teach kids, but there have been worse certainly) and his song “The bare necessities.” I just loved that song, still do.

I can sing it word for word, including the little spoken asides --- Mowgli: “You eat ants?” Baloo: “You’d better believe it!” --- and I can see the big bear rubbing his back up and down with great satisfaction against a tree, showing the mancub how to scratch. Just class all the way, specially the dance the big fat bear does, and the disparaging looks of the more prim and proper, and socially aware Bagheera, the black panther that tries to convince Baloo that the human child is not his new companion, and cannot stay with them in the jungle. He must be returned to his own kind, a quest which informs much of the movie.

Then there’s the song of the deadly but hilariously inept snake Kaa, as he tries to hypnotise Mowgli so that he can eat him. I have vague memories of the snake somehow hypnotisng himself (I think Baloo or Bagheera somehow show him his reflection, maybe in a pool: it’s not important) and falling out of the tree, shaking himself and then launching back into his song, “Trust in me.” A precursor for Smithers and Burns? As Baloo says in “The Bare Necessities”, oh-ho! You’d better believe it!

Finally there’s the superb performance by Louis Prima as King Louie the orang-utan, who wants to be human and believes that if Mowgli will share with him the secret of “man’s red flower”, he will be able to become human. The child of course knows nothing of fire, but that doesn’t stop the ape king from trying to bribe him, mostly with bananas. Here he sings the song in which he outlines his reasoning for wanting to be human, in “I wanna be like you.”

Special mention must be made for George Sanders, who voices Sher Khan, the lordly tiger who constantly tries to thwart Baloo and Bagheera’s attempts to protect their human charge, and eat him. The lazy, laconic and aristocratic voice hides a vicious, savage animal that hates man and all his instruments of hunting, which had led to many of his people being killed by them. Louie may be the self-styled “king of the swingers”, but Sher Khan is the real ruler of the jungle. a true prince of the wild, and he not only knows it, but makes sure everyone else knows it too.

I watched this movie again when I was about nineteen or twenty. I was at the time living just around the corner from a good friend of mine, one of my best, and we would have regular weekly video sessions, mostly of Star Trek or some music video, or some hush-hush computer graphics thing he had got hold of. One day I happened to mention “Jungle Book” and was amazed to hear that he had never seen it. He was about my own age. We legged it over to the video store and had no trouble renting a copy. I spent the next about hour and a half not only enjoying the movie all over again, reliving my childhood, but watching in delight as each new scene threw Tony into fits of laughter, and there were many rewinds and replays. To see someone enjoy for the first time something which had given me so much pleasure as a child was truly a new and thrilling joy, and I think that night cemented the place of this wonderful Disney movie in my mind and my heart forever.

No wonder I’m still singing the songs!

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Trollheart

When I started this special section I made mention of one King Diamond, and you probably all thought I was just talking through my ahhhsss ... it happens, I was serious.

No presents for Christmas --- King Diamond --- originally a standalone single, 1985 but rereleased on “Fatal portrait” 1986

Released, as I say above, as the first single from The King since Mercyful Fate broke up, this also found its way onto his debut album, hence the two release years above. samtsirhC ot allinaV It starts off, lulling the unsuspecting listener into a false sense of security if they don’t know what to expect, with a tinny keyboard rendition of “Jingle bells” segueing into “I saw mommy kissing Satan, sorry Santa Claus” before it bursts into a high-powered metal rocket ride, with the King singing at the top of his range.

Pretty good really, considering I wouldn’t listen to a Mercyful Fate album in a fit --- no, not even for Metal Month! --- and it even ends in a keyboard instrumental of “Rudolph the red nosed reindeer”, with a short vocal of “White Christmas” before King D kicks his way out the door with a maniacal laugh. Good fun really, but poor old Noddy Holder must be turning in his grave.

What? He’s not dead? You sure? Ah. I see. Excuse me just one moment, I have to make an urgent telephone call. Hello? Taxi, yes, and hurry. Liverpool Cemetery. Quick as you can mate: it’s an emergency…

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The Batlord

Wait, so what's wrong with Mercyful Fate? They got melody and they got an actual singer. What's the prob?

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Trollheart

Ah-hoy-hoy! Or perhaps I should say “Ah-hoy-hoy-hoy!” Ah yes how amusing. I really must start paying my writers. What do you mean, pay them more? No, no, my friend: I mean pay them at all. Well they have to work off their little bursts of creativity somewhere now don’t they? And I do have those photographs…

Quite. So just remember that, all right? Now, let me just sit down a moment. All this running from journal to journal tires an old man out, you know! I’m not the spry seventy-eight-year-old I once was! But it’s worth it if it means I can show you what Christmas a la Burns is like. Time to have a peek at another one of those pesky Christmas songs, eh? You know the ones: always blasting at full volume out of the infernal wireless or tootling out of the tannoy whenever you go down to the local shopping auditorium to purchase some bengay and a bottle of catsup. Or is it ketchup? Catsup? Ketchup? Catsup? Ketchup? I get confused; well who wouldn’t? The blasted bottles look identical, for the love of Peter!

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes: those dratted Christmas songs. Can’t avoid them. Go shopping, there they are. Stay at home, there they are. Even if I switch off all forms of media in my mansion I can still hear their annoying croaking drifting up from the servants’ quarters --- what? I specifically told them there was to be NO entertainment this Christmas! Remind me to fire them, preferably on Christmas Eve. Bwa-ha-ha-ha!

Anyhoo, on with the show, as they say. Here’s our next cheery Christmas tune, just ripe for the picking apart.
[img]http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/e/ed/Iwi****couldbe.jpg[/img]

What? Where in blues blazes is my picture? Oh for the love of... Because the words "wish" and "it" come together the stupid Nanny system has decided the word is "****" and won't show the picture because the link is "asterisked" out in places! Bah! Release the hounds on these do-gooder, tree-hugging, save-the-whales hippies! I hate them all! Now I have to save the image on my own computator --- er, SMITHERS! Yes, it keeps saying "file not found". .. ah. Excellent. Most impressive. Now go home to your can of cold mushroom soup. I no longer need you.

Let's see now, upload. Upload? What in --- SMITHERS!! Ah yes, thank you once again. Most kind. Yes in fact the hounds HAVE been released: you know the distance to the wall, I'm sure a fit young fellow like you can make it in --- Hmm. I would advise you desist wasting time and --- Ah. Hello? Emergency Services? Yes. Ambulance please, post haste. Yes, Burns Manor. Yes, Smithers again. Yes, the Hounds. Look, I don't intend playing twenty questions with you young lady! Send the meat wagon immediately! Thank you. Oh yes, of course. Merry Christmas to you too. (Bah!)

Now let's just see if ... Huzzah! Success!

Ah yes, excellent! Wizzards eh? I could do with a new potion to extend my --- what?!! I’ve never heard such poppycock in all my days! You wish it could be Christmas every day, do you? Well, you’re the only one, matey! You seriously believe that the Sally Housewifes and Eddie Punchclocks of this world would enjoy queuing for presents, taking their squalling brats to see some old fool dressed as Santa Claus (it was a WAGER, all right? I lost a wager…), writing Christmas cards and running up credit card bills the size of a Central African country’s GDP do you? Every day? You would have this horrendous season every single day? Are you mad?

The mere logistics of such a thing boggle the mind! You would have to have had three hundred and sixty-five identitcal Saviours, each born in the same city one day apart, for that to work. Do you know the odds against that happening? And how would the economy fare, were your fond dream to come true, hmm? Hard-pressed employers like myself are forced by law to allow our lollygagging drones a day off for this momentous day, and you would have it every day, would you? So the organ banks would be off 365 days a year, ie there would be no work done. What utter nonsense!
Speaking of nonsense, let’s take a closer look at these so-called lyrics and see if they at least make some sort of --- what in the hellfires of damnation?? “When the snowman brings the snow”? Snowmen are MADE of snow, you bearded moron! They can’t BRING snow. Snow brings them. Assuming some snivelling little child has the time on his busy hands to create one! What else is there, let’s see… “Now the frosty paws appear, and they’ve frozen up my beard”... Were these chaps known to indulge in the “waccy baccy”, as I believe it’s referred to these days? Ah, they were? Explains a lot. Not that line though: what in the name of Samuel Hill are these frosty paws he’s talking about?

Oh dear, this is getting depressing. “When Santa brings his sleigh all along the Milky Way.” Santa lives in the North Pole, you fool! It’s on Earth! He doesn’t have to travel the galaxy, and he couldn’t anyway: how would those delightful (and delicious, take it from one who knows --- oh you thought there were only eight reindeer, did you? That was the year SANTA lost the wager! ) reindeer breathe? Absolute balderdash! Oh, and look at the last line: “Why don’t you give your love for Christmas?” Capital idea! Find the cheapest, most meaningless present that is going to take you zero time to buy, wrap and give. Baste my steaming puddings! Can you imagine anyone offering their love as a Christmas present? And they call me a miser!

Look, the biggest mistake I can see was when a band decided to record a Christmas song when previously their main area of interest had been in advising people to see their baby jive. Should have stuck to those sort of songs, my friends. Now we’re condemned to listen to this idiotic drivel every single Christmas till we die. So thank Satan that it isn’t Christmas every day, because if it was I think I would just have to end it all. And take Smithers with me of course. Smithers? Why are you looking at me like that? No no no! When I die, you’ll be buried alive with me! What? I thought you said you couldn’t bear to be separated? Well, this way that will never happen. It’s my gift to you, on this festive season of giving.

Merry Christmas Smithers! Of course I'll come to see you in hospital, my faithful lackey! (Hah! Not bloody likely! Now, want ads, want ads ... faithful lackey required, must be able to run faster than the Hounds....)

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018