CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN

Christmas Countdown is a very funny Christmas take on The Twelve Days of Christmas by Irishman Frank Kelly (1938 – 2016).

Kelly was an Irish actor, singer and writer, whose career covered television, radio, theatre, music, screenwriting and film. He is best remembered for playing Father Jack Hackett in the Channel 4 sitcom Father Ted. He was also the son of the cartoonist Charles E. Kelly.

Hear Christmas Countdown by clicking on:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQkF7fpw-wI

Those who would like to read it, or follow it as they listen, can do so with the following:

Day One

Dear Nuala,

Thank you very much for your lovely present of a partridge in a pear-tree

We're getting the hang of feeding the partridge now,

Although it was difficult at first to win its confidence

It bit the mother rather badly on the hand

But they're good friends now and we're keeping the pear-tree indoors in a bucket

Thank you again

Yours affectionately, Gobnait O'Lúnasa

Day Two

Dear Nuala,

I cannot tell you how surprised we were to hear from you so soon again and to receive your lovely present of two turtle doves

You really are too kind

At first the partridge was very jealous

And suspicious of the doves and they had a terrible row the night the doves arrived

We had to send for the vet but the birds are okay again

And the stitches are due to some out in a week or two

The vet's bill was 8 pounds but the mother is over her annoyance now

And the doves and the partridge are watching the telly from the pear-tree as I write 

Yours ever, Gobnait

Day Three

Dear Nuala,

We must be foremost in your thoughts

I had only posted my letter when the three French hens arrived

There was another sort-out between the hens and the doves,

Who sided with the partridge, and the vet had to be sent for again

The mother was raging because the bill was 16 this time

But she has almost cooled down

However, the fact that the birds' droppings keep falling down

On her hair while she's watching the telly, doesn't help matters

Thanking you for your kindness

I remain, your Gobnait

Day Four

Dear Nuala,

You mustn't have received my last letter when you were sending us the four calling birds There was pandemonium in the pear-tree again last night and the vet's bill was 32

The mother is on sedation as I write

I know you meant no harm and remain your close friend

Gobnauit

Day Five

Nuala,

Your generosity knows no bounds

Five gold rings! When the parcel arrived I was scared stiff that it might be more birds, because the smell in the living-room is atrocious

However, I don't want to seem ungrateful for the beautiful rings

Your affectionate friend, Gobnait

Day Six

Nuala,

What are you trying to do to us? It isn't that we don't appreciate your generosity

But the six geese a laying have not alone nearly murdered the calling birds

But they laid their eggs on top of the vet's head

From the pear-tree and his bill was 68 pounds in cash !

My mother is munching 60 grains of Valium a day

And talking to herself in a most alarming way

You must keep your feelings for me in check

Gobnait

Day Seven

Nuala,

We are not amused by your little joke

Seven swans-a-swimming is a most romantic idea but not in the bath of a private house

We cannot use the bathroom now because they've gone completely savage

And rush the door every time we try to enter

If things go on this way, the mother and I will smell as bad as the living-room carpet 

Please lay off. It is not fair

Gobnait

Day Eight

Nuala,

Who the hell do you think gave you the right to send eight,

Hefty maids-a-milking here, to eat us out of house and home?

Their cattle are all over the front lawn

And have trampled the hell out of the mother's rose-beds

The swans invaded the living-room in a sneak attack

And the ensuing battle between them and the calling birds,

Turtle doves, French hens and partridge make the battle

Of the Somme seem like Wanderly Wagon

The mother is on a bottle of whiskey a day, as well as the sixty grains of Valium

I'm very annoyed with you

Gobnait

Day Nine

Listen you looser!

There's enough pandemonium in this place night and day without nine drummers drumming, while the eight flaming maids-a-milking are beating my poor, old alcoholic mother out of her own kitchen and gobbling everything in sight

I'm warning you, you're making an enemy of me

Gobnait

Day Ten

Listen manure-face,

I hope you'll be haunted by the strains of ten pipers piping

Which you sent to torment us last night

They were aided in their evil work by those maniac drummers

And it wasn't a pleasant sight to look out the window

And see eight hefty maids-a-milking pogo-ing around with the ensuing punk-rock uproar

My mother has just finished her third bottle of whiskey,

On top of a hundred and twenty four grains of Valium

You'll get yours!

Gobnait O'Lúnasa

Day Eleven

You have scandalized my mother, you dirty Jezebel,

It was bad enough to have eight maids-a-milking dancing to punk music on the front lawn but they've now been joined by your friends the eleven Lords-a-leaping

And the antics of the whole lot of them would leave

The most decadent days of the Roman Empire looking like Outlook

I'll get you yet, you loud bag!

Day Twelve

Listen slurry head,

You have ruined our lives

The twelve maidens dancing turned up last night

And beat the living daylights out of the eight maids-a-milking,

'Cause they found them carrying on with the eleven Lords-a-leaping

Meanwhile, the swans got out of the living-room,

Where they'd been hiding since the big battle,

And savaged hell out of the Lords and all the Maids

There were eight ambulances here last night, and the local Civil Defence as well

The mother is in a home for the bewildered

And I'm sitting here, up to my neck in birds' droppings, empty whiskey

And Valium bottles, birds' blood and feathers,

While the flaming cows eat the leaves off the pear-tree

I'm a broken man