Unplug the fairylights before bedtime
Royalty wearing paper crowns,
amongst snapped crackers and sherry,
battled with burnt turkey thighs,
passing round sharper knives
and pointier forks in a cavalry charge of cutlery.
A kitten pawing baubles
near the balding tree’s stump
shook pine needles from its mane
taking a running jump into a box where
a urinating baby had laid.
Itchy knitwear smothered
a boy sneaking in from the garden
after shooting two robins
and the next-door-neighbour-but-one
with a GAT gun whilst out hunting a partridge.
Farts and reruns filled the air
and batteries from smoke alarms
powered a train chugging along
plastic tracks, beside skirting boards,
derailed by a tartan slipper.
Fairylights circling the roof
spat sparks, flames snaked
down the walls, each room
razed to the carpet in seconds,
doused with a giant glass of egg nog.
The fire engine from last year
gathering dust under bunk beds
was not needed, for the charred remains
of tenants asleep in the dolls housewere carried away by remote control ambulance.