Let Nothing You Dismay....

The temperature’s dropping, I’ve finished me shopping.  As I log off Yule all log on, tinsel and Gretel, open my bottle, the thirst Noel.  The first know-all.  Following yonder tesla.  Don’t be a big spender, or even a lender, but never surrender.  The turkey’s tender; no green agenda.  ‘Tis the season to be jolly, the Government is off its trolley.  Whilst immigrants arrive in boats, MPs think of just their votes.  But now it’s time to get their coats.  Goosey Goosey Gander, they need a one-way to Rwanda.  CoP28 / Cop Out - no doubt.  Take off Bake off / Celibate Grim Dancing.  Keep your hashtag in your handbag.  Have your jags, don’t spray tags, lay off the fags, one Cigs is enough, FT’s in a huff; enough plum duff.  Electric car – it’s gone too far – it’s all PR.  The hydrocarbons are on me, then I slipped on Mother Shipton.  Sprouts and stuffing, it’s all for nothing; a cat in the chemists is Puss in Boots even Granny is smoking cheroots.  Win carniss and lose at Monopoly.  Socks and tie, a warm mince pie, the sherry’s dry or scotch and rye – don’t ask why, it’s all A.I.  Plagiarism it’s all the rage-erism.  Celebrity pasta chef is beyond my ken, I can’t write in I’ve lost my penne.  Be festive not restive, oh come all ye fitful.  Don’t carry cash to the Christmas bash.  Working from home, delivered by drone, don’t fight us get jagged for tinsel-itus.  Bunion, sage and onion, stuff it, no relaxo just paxo, stifle it, trifle plate.  Strictly not dental – call Blip Central.  Eggnog, swaddling, the roast duck’s still waddling, no time for ogling – be playful, have a sleigh full.  Bravado – an avocado – don’t throw a mango for Django.   Pre-watershed, post watershed – without a stamp.  Seaside Susie’s having a dip – garlic and chilli – it may just nip.  Hilary is still going steeper – constantly watched by a male wallcreeper.  The Third Programme is highbrow not high bro’.  Sing song warily on high.  On the first day of Blipmas my prude love gave to me a cartridge in a printer, two spurtle gloves, three fresh wrens, four calling cards, five mould things, six leases paying, seven Swansea women, eight maids o’ Milton Keynes, line dancing ladies, then hoards all vaping, Leven Hikers biking, velvet slimmers slumping.  Resolve to get fitter – chase the cooncil gritter, you’ll end up bitter, but not platonic.  Pringles sell, Pringles sell, Pringles all to weigh.  Another year is yet to come – get up the lum wi’ some black bun.  Please keep Santa awa’ fae the decanter.  It’s a downward spiral, mankind’s gone viral, there’s no time for mirth, we must reboot the Earth.  A Happy Blipmas to one and all.