This year, for the first time in a long time, I am not going to visit family. I’ll miss them, because my family are amazing. But there are up-sides: I won’t spend hundreds of pounds on train fares lugging a backpack full of presents all around the country. I won’t have to have the super-quiet sex on put-up beds in people’s lounges. I won’t have to smile politely at racist elderly aunts, and I can say ‘fuck’ if I want without scaring the children.
So here’s a Christmas poem for grown-ups.
A Christmas poem for grown-ups
Twas the night before Christmas, and cosy in bed
I lie waiting – all tingly from tiptoes to head.
‘Neath the blankets and bedclothes, tucked far out of sight
Making one Christmas wish: to get fucked in the night.
Though it’s nice to see family, I can’t shag at Mum’s:
With my siblings next door it’s a challenge to come.
I don’t mind making chit-chat with great Uncle Paul
But he might hear me moan through the plaster-board walls.
When you grow up you gather both knowledge and vice
And they list your name under both ‘naughty’ and ‘nice’
So while Christmas is ruled by that family stuff
This year I’ve decided: enough is enough.
As a kid all I thought of was Santa and gifts
But now I’m thirty-two and I don’t give a shit
About stockings and baubles and chestnuts and such,
So I’m choosing a Christmas that’s just for grown-ups.
I choose swearing and wanking and sucking and gin
I’ll eat Quality Street and I won’t pass the tin.
I’ll have Wetherspoons brandy and living-room head
I will sleep till midday in my own fucking bed.
Swap the mince pies for sex toys, satsumas for lube
Crank the tunes up and dance in the hall in the nude.
I won’t have to pretend Father Christmas exists
If I’m not ankle-deep in a gaggle of kids.
So come singletons, couples, and anyone who
Wants a holiday treat that is all about you.
If you’ve no time for stockings and overpriced crap
Have some fun with these gifts you don’t need to unwrap:
Christmas lie-ins and shortbread you don’t have to share,
Festive wanks in the lounge in your favourite armchair,
Your own music, no arguments, cheese-and-wine diet
And the very best thing above all: peace and quiet.
I usually write a dirty Christmas Eve story, so if that’s more your thing check out those links. I just really wanted to write a poem, because I’ve done a few this year and they’ve always been really fun to write. This one was too.
It’s not, of course, meant as a criticism of your Christmas. There are lots of different ways to celebrate Christmas – or not celebrate Christmas, depending on your preferences. Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, I hope you have a lovely time.