Little Donkey, and other carols you only know four lines of

THE opening lines of Christmas carols are belted out, but after that voices quickly fade. Nobody remembers how the f**k these go: 

Silent Night

You begin with supreme confidence as it starts with the most famous bit, but shit goes south faster than Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve. It’s about the clear, crisp evening when Jesus was born, but the actual silence is you struggling to remember what comes after ‘all is calm, all is bright’.

Ding Dong Merrily on High

Another one where you come in powerfully before your memory abandons you entirely. Who knew the sky was ‘riven’ with angels or steeple bells were ‘swungen’; are those even words? Mumble vaguely until leaping back for ‘gloria’ and a strong ‘hosanna in excelsis’ and hope someone else can carry the middle.

Little Donkey

Once you’ve established this diminutive donkey is on a dusty road to Bethlehem while carrying a heavy load, ie Christ, his mum, an enormous amount of theological baggage, you get foggy on the words. And no, the rhyme for ‘on a dusty road’ isn’t ‘wired to explode’. You’re confusing it with Die Hard. 

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Exactly four lines. As soon as you sing ‘born on Christmas Day’ the rest of the song is a complete mystery. It could be about the titular gentlemen smoking opium through hookah pipes, it could be a mash-up with Ronan Keating’s Life Is A Rollercoaster for all you know. It’s a memory loss as comprehensive as a tequila blackout.

Twelve Days of Christmas

Less a carol, and more an implement of mental torture. An impossible, lyrical Rubik’s Cube only cracked by schoolkids who’ve learned it for their Christmas concert. Geese a-laying? Lords a-leaping? Cooks a-frying? Foxes a-shagging? Junkies a-scoring? After five gold rings you’re f**ked, you know it, everyone knows it. Give up there.

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Family in matching Christmas pyjamas hate themselves and each other

A FAMILY wearing matching Christmas pyjamas all wish they were dead, they have confirmed.

Stephen and Helen Malley and their children Josh, aged ten, Lucy, aged seven, and three-year-old Hayden first donned the novelty nightwear on Christmas Eve and admit it has ruined everything for them.

Josh Malley said: “It’s humiliating and I feel like a massive twat, but mum likes it so I’m doing for her. However if this shit ends up on Instagram my life will be over.” 

Helen Malley said: “I’m a grown woman, do you honestly think I’d wear a pair of flammable novelty pyjamas if it wasn’t for the sake of my little boy who still believes in the magic of Christmas? I can’t wait until he’s 15 and won’t speak to me.”

Lucy Malley said: “Mum thinks I like this shit but I’m seven, not an imbecile. I’ve been putting up with it for days now and I can no longer bear to see my pathetic coward’s face in the mirror. I’ll still be in therapy about this in 30 years.” 

Stephen Malley said: “These are comfortable. I don’t give a shit, I’m off work. It’s noon, I’m cracking a beer.”