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davywavyA few days ago I said I'd write something festive for those of you as asked me to.
My apologies to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cornaid, gwaunquest and hiromasaki - I didn't feel I know you well enough to skit you effectively.
‘twas the night before Christmas
And over Livejournal
Sat David’s friends,
Both divine and infernal
But at his desk in Stevenage
Sits David, working still
No coin of profit to my name
But still a large tax bill.
When with a howling like a train
There comes a Christmas ghost
He says I'll learn festivity
And he will be my host.
To take me on a Christmas tour
A scheme he will employ
He'll show me friends at Christmastide
And teach me Christmas joy.
I cavil fast and point at work
And all I have to do.
As entrepreneur I cannot stop
There's figures to accrue.
"Now be off with you, o festive sprite
There's money to be made
Though not a penny in my purse
Those taxes must be paid."
Ignoring me my undead guest
Reached forth a spectral hand
And took me ‘pon an Odyssey
Of Christmas o’er the land.
So flew we first to Reading town,
Where Rhona and her mates
Performed an act illegal
In nineteen US States.
With tools and toys and gewgaws
And tricks from ev’ry book
I think I saw a sheep there too,
(But I tried hard not to look).
Away from this debauchery
And then to Brum we fly
To find old beardy Sowden
With his nose stuck in a pie.
With glass in hand and cheery wave
Plus belly full of beer
His rosy face is all we need
To wish us seasons’ cheer.
And from the pub to campus next
And there I find young Joe.
Avoiding work as student Rep,
Grown fat on taxpayers dough.
“Worker harder, Dave, and pay more tax!”
His voice cried, clear and shrill
“The NUS won’t pay its way
So more tax, and yet more, still!”
And then from there my spectral guide
To seek out James instead
Whose greeting was a martial bow
And right hook to my head.
“Oh don’t be cross, Dave mate” he cried
Whilst picking up my teeth
“A quick dust-up is how men bond,
Or such is my belief.”
The ghost and I soon turned and ran
From his kicks and blows
And breathing hard we took time out
To straighten up my nose.
Still faster now to Jeni Law
‘mongst fairest in the land.
But to kiss her beau Marc, he needs
A box on which to stand.
"A shame", I said, "that Marc's not here
To share the Christmas flair."
"I don't know what you're on about" she said
"He's stood behind that chair."
Whilst still in Manc to Tiffany
As bounteous as the day
But 'ware for all you imbeciles
Her temper's quick to fray
With weary tread to to Inskauldrak
To hear his Commie prattle
To stay awake while he goes on
Is really half the battle
And there we find him being kind
and giving to the poor
To keep his presents for himself
Would be Tory, nothing more.
Then keeping to a fiscal theme
The ghost takes me to Boyle
Where he, like me, is working still
Engaged in honest toil.
A dour scot you'll see at first
He seems immune to booze
But truth it is, he told me once,
He's no reserve to lose.
From thence we fly to Scarborough
(The person, not the town)
Where there we see a Christmas gift
A face without a frown
To earn great cash is what she wants
Her gift from Santa's sack
So hope we send the shade and I
She gets her spirit back.
Now Westward 'cross the ocean deep
To lands uncivilised
Where Hamburgers are haute cuisine
And guns are highly prized.
And there we find her, glorious Wend
Her husband gets his kicks
By taking Brits to 'titty bars',
And making them meet chicks.
From thence far East, the ghost and I
Fair Karoline to see
I have to say good things for her -
Her dad's Ex-KGB.
So listing all her attributes,
To save me getting shot
She's tall and smart and generous,
And realy really hot.
And so at last to Stevenage
Our Oddysey will end
The ghost asks if I've learned goodwill
And peace on Earth to men
"Goodwill?" I cry, "I should say not!"
My voice it is quite cross
"With that damn trip to see my friends
I've made a thumping loss.
A letter here from Gordon Brown
With threats of jail and worse
He's asking even more from me -
Hands deeper in my purse!
So bugger off you festive ghost,
There's no goodwill to you.
And you lot can have your Christmas
But I've got work to do!"
Merry Christmas, everyone.
My apologies to
cornaid, gwaunquest and hiromasaki - I didn't feel I know you well enough to skit you effectively.‘twas the night before Christmas
And over Livejournal
Sat David’s friends,
Both divine and infernal
But at his desk in Stevenage
Sits David, working still
No coin of profit to my name
But still a large tax bill.
When with a howling like a train
There comes a Christmas ghost
He says I'll learn festivity
And he will be my host.
To take me on a Christmas tour
A scheme he will employ
He'll show me friends at Christmastide
And teach me Christmas joy.
I cavil fast and point at work
And all I have to do.
As entrepreneur I cannot stop
There's figures to accrue.
"Now be off with you, o festive sprite
There's money to be made
Though not a penny in my purse
Those taxes must be paid."
Ignoring me my undead guest
Reached forth a spectral hand
And took me ‘pon an Odyssey
Of Christmas o’er the land.
So flew we first to Reading town,
Where Rhona and her mates
Performed an act illegal
In nineteen US States.
With tools and toys and gewgaws
And tricks from ev’ry book
I think I saw a sheep there too,
(But I tried hard not to look).
Away from this debauchery
And then to Brum we fly
To find old beardy Sowden
With his nose stuck in a pie.
With glass in hand and cheery wave
Plus belly full of beer
His rosy face is all we need
To wish us seasons’ cheer.
And from the pub to campus next
And there I find young Joe.
Avoiding work as student Rep,
Grown fat on taxpayers dough.
“Worker harder, Dave, and pay more tax!”
His voice cried, clear and shrill
“The NUS won’t pay its way
So more tax, and yet more, still!”
And then from there my spectral guide
To seek out James instead
Whose greeting was a martial bow
And right hook to my head.
“Oh don’t be cross, Dave mate” he cried
Whilst picking up my teeth
“A quick dust-up is how men bond,
Or such is my belief.”
The ghost and I soon turned and ran
From his kicks and blows
And breathing hard we took time out
To straighten up my nose.
Still faster now to Jeni Law
‘mongst fairest in the land.
But to kiss her beau Marc, he needs
A box on which to stand.
"A shame", I said, "that Marc's not here
To share the Christmas flair."
"I don't know what you're on about" she said
"He's stood behind that chair."
Whilst still in Manc to Tiffany
As bounteous as the day
But 'ware for all you imbeciles
Her temper's quick to fray
With weary tread to to Inskauldrak
To hear his Commie prattle
To stay awake while he goes on
Is really half the battle
And there we find him being kind
and giving to the poor
To keep his presents for himself
Would be Tory, nothing more.
Then keeping to a fiscal theme
The ghost takes me to Boyle
Where he, like me, is working still
Engaged in honest toil.
A dour scot you'll see at first
He seems immune to booze
But truth it is, he told me once,
He's no reserve to lose.
From thence we fly to Scarborough
(The person, not the town)
Where there we see a Christmas gift
A face without a frown
To earn great cash is what she wants
Her gift from Santa's sack
So hope we send the shade and I
She gets her spirit back.
Now Westward 'cross the ocean deep
To lands uncivilised
Where Hamburgers are haute cuisine
And guns are highly prized.
And there we find her, glorious Wend
Her husband gets his kicks
By taking Brits to 'titty bars',
And making them meet chicks.
From thence far East, the ghost and I
Fair Karoline to see
I have to say good things for her -
Her dad's Ex-KGB.
So listing all her attributes,
To save me getting shot
She's tall and smart and generous,
And realy really hot.
And so at last to Stevenage
Our Oddysey will end
The ghost asks if I've learned goodwill
And peace on Earth to men
"Goodwill?" I cry, "I should say not!"
My voice it is quite cross
"With that damn trip to see my friends
I've made a thumping loss.
A letter here from Gordon Brown
With threats of jail and worse
He's asking even more from me -
Hands deeper in my purse!
So bugger off you festive ghost,
There's no goodwill to you.
And you lot can have your Christmas
But I've got work to do!"
Merry Christmas, everyone.
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no subject
Date: 2005-12-23 03:52 pm (UTC)I'm a UGS in the US and I have no clue WTF all these letters mean.
Then again, I still don't know where the FAO or SU are on campus either...
no subject
Date: 2005-12-23 03:53 pm (UTC)FE: Further Education (post-16)
NUS: National Union of Students
That help?
(Oh, and UGS?)
no subject
Date: 2005-12-23 04:07 pm (UTC)Basically years 13-16, ending in a Baccalaureate Degree
I presume FE would be what we call a Master's Program, and HE would be the Doctoral Program? (Both of which are also under the heading of "Graduate Students / Grad School")
Gotta love how the same language can be so different.
(edited via delete-n-replace)
no subject
Date: 2005-12-23 04:10 pm (UTC)HE is where undergraduate students get their Bachelors' Degrees and where postgraduate study occurs (e.g. Masters, Doctorate, etc.)
FE (also analogous to Sixth Form) is where people who've left school study for their A-levels or other qualifications, which are generally required for entry into University.
Does that help?