I recall a crude Christmastime
Way back in Nineteen Ninety Nine.
Dazzled by the old town bars' lights,
I went and got drunk every night.
Common sense was brushed aside,
As I necked lots of lager and wine.
Good conversation hardly flowed;
Just the usual grunts and groans.
Alpha males and their mean, yet weak,
Women: brightly painted zombies,
Strutted their stuff on the dance floors.
Whilst any loner was ignored.
The other locals were out to score.
Some were conducting tribal wars.
Crap music blared out like sirens.
It seemed to call for violence.
Although it was bitterly cold,
The revellers were seemingly bold:
Clad in T - shirts and mini skirts.
They were dressed to kill and to flirt.
Some fat gals shouted, 'ladies first! ;
Their attire appeared fit to burst.
Several clever dicks smirked at them.
What they said next is a pure gem.
'Don't see any ladies, ' they quipped,
And soon had to nurse busted lips.
Hell have no fury like women scorned!
Some fools in fancy dress transformed
Themselves into Santa's Elves. Bored,
By them and their ilk, I drank more
And more, until I was quite sick.
A brief visit would do the trick.
In the grubby toilets, white trash
With lots and lots of extra cash
Were there, freely snorting cocaine.
Things were becoming quite insane!
I met someone called Nasty Nick,
Who, back in school, was very thick:
Said his best friend was Randy Rick.
Then I had to get away quick,
As fighting began on the streets.
It was not the Christmas I dreamed
Of when I was a kid. These days
I try hard to avoid the crazed,
Festive haze: the carefree smashing
Of beer glasses; slappers screaming;
The bovine, head butting bouncers,
All ofthe kiss and tell chancers,
The bad karaoke singers,
And the Santa Claus dead- ringers.
No wonder they say romance is dead.
It seems to have been kicked in the head.
I'm now certainly very picky,
Where I choose to get most Christmassy!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem