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'Twas The Night Before Christmas

Or "An Account of an Incident on the Occasion of December 24th, 1984"

As published in the Troy Sentinel on Boxing Day 1984, detailing the capture of an event that had previously just been a mysterious rumour originating from Birmingham, England for the past three years.


‘Twas was the night before Xmas and all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Roberta was nestled all sung in her bed,

While visions of Duran treats danced in her head.

She dreamt of the morrow ‘neath pics of JT

Dreaming of videos and the Arena LP.

I had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,

When there was a sound from the chimney like a loud thunder clap.

I sprang from my bed and thought what to do

About the soot cloud that burst from the fireplace flue.

From the wreckage emerged a man from the gap

Who had flowing blond hair ‘neath a blue sailor’s cap.

Like a comet he’d landed from high far away

So I offered a brandy, which he downed straight away.

Then - crash! - another body landed at the chimney floor

And I wondered what else the night had in store.

He dusted himself down in the place where he landed

I could tell straight away that he was two-handed.

Mama in her ‘kerchief was stirred by the noise

And clearly recognised one of the boys.

“Oh, Roger!” she blushed and offered to show him around.

He gladly agreed to take a tour of her grounds.

Then out on the lawn there arose such a clatter

I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash

And saw sprawled on the lawn a wild boy in a red sash.

He was collapsed in the breasts of a woman below

And I feared she’d catch her death in the new fallen snow.

He staggered to the door and managed to knock at the third try.

I let him and the lady in. “This is Vixen!” he cried.

“Oh, Dashing it’s you!”, said the man from the chimney.

“Hey Simon,” said Dashing, and asked for some whiskey.

I asked these strange visions the cause of their visit

As they seemed lost what to do now that they were in it.

“We bring gifts for Duranies,” Dashing replied.

“But I dropped them on the way down and none have survived.”

“That’s because your hands were full of Vixen,” Simon snorted.

“Well where are you presents then?” Dashing retorted.

“I had a Renoir for Mama and a TV set for Roberta,

“But I sold them last week to a guy in Alberta.”

Then from far above I heard a great cry

I could tell another body would fall from up high.

More rapid than eagles he crashed down full throttle,

And emerged from the chimney clutching a Jack Daniels bottle.

“Andy!” said Simon, relieved by his presence.

“Did you manage to remember and bring any presents?”

“Well there’s this,” said Andy, looking at the drink.

“But Papa won’t want it half empty, I think.”

“There’s always next year, I suppose,” said Simon quite flat,

(Though Andy looked shifty and rather doubtful at that).

As I sighed in despair and was turning around

Down the chimney St Nick-olas came with a-bound!

His eyes how they sparkled, his dimples how merry

His cheeks were like roses (and his lipstick - so cherry!)

A bundle of toys was flung on his back

And I saw Sing Blue Silver sticking out of his sack

“Oh, Dashing!” he cried as saw the sad chap,

All confused and bewildered with the lady on his lap.

“I’ve told you all that before the snow melts

It’s essential that you all put on your seat belts.”

“Now please finish your drinks and fill the stockings with gifts,

Roberta’s been good and deserves all she wish’d.”

They fill’d her stocking with a signed photo in a frame,

A calendar, the LP and one Arena board game.

It was time for the rest of the Duranies in the world

To be visited and receive the presents they deserved.

Roger returned looking flush and quite mellow

Saying Mama had shown him above and be-low.

"Not again!" said St Nick, and layed his finger aside of his nose,

And pushed the boys (and Vixen) up the chimney, and rose.

St Nick sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

They all buckled up, and flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim ere he drove out of sight

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!


Happy Christmas to all Cherry Lipstick readers!

Thank you all for your wonderful support in 2019,


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