Bland On Bland – Gift Giving

blndonblandpoem-featuredThe theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “Gift Giving“.

Last show of the year and Jon is in a mellow mood, seems he opened the bottle of Cabernet he was given as a gift a week early.

Well at least the show ran like a well oiled machine… Ed stepped on a cat’s tail, the cat turned around and bit him and he is in hospital in one of those rooms you have to put on a yellow “hazmat” suit when you go and visit him.
Both cat and Ed are responding well to treatment

I lost the poem BUT fortunately there was a perfect poem in my book so I used that instead.
I found the one I had lost after the segment and Jon accused me of shameless marketing – well of course it was. I learnt from him

Have a great Christmas and we will see you all in the new year

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:

Santa’s working weekends in the window at Myer

In the old days Santa could make a decent living
The money didn’t matter; it was all about the giving

He was registered a charity, but his book keeping was lax
The ATO determined he owed a trillion dollars tax

Competition came from Amazon; then the GFC
A hedge fund took him over, he became an employee

Manufacturing and transport, he knew every facet
But an audit classified him as a non-performing asset

Santa was retrenched, then re-hired as a contractor
When Mrs Claus complained they cut her hours then sacked her

Santa contacted his union; they made a lot of noise
But didn’t want to jeopardise the sweet deals for the boys

Can’t let the needs of one upset their cosy little club
So they called a stop work meeting and adjourned it to the pub

Santa’s salary was slashed to reflect global supply
Based on average wages at a sweat shop in Mumbai

Lost his holiday and sick leave, other benefits as well
Had to pay for his own uniform and they took away his bell

Removed his shift allowance, claimed they didn’t have the dough
Then paid a twenty million bonus to the company’s CEO

Sold the reindeer off for pet food, which stirred a few emotions
Had Rudolph stuffed and mounted for advertising and promotions

The elves were all laid off and escorted from the site
Every grey beard hipster sued for breach of copyright

They started making toys from a blend of toxic waste
Branded it “organic” to explain the bitter taste

When a newspaper exposed them they sued for defamation
Changed “organic” to “all natural”; that’s termed self-regulation

Put the squeeze on suppliers, cut margins close to nil
While the CEO skimmed off another fifteen mill

Moved Christmas back two months to separate it from New Year
Transferred manufacture in a deal with North Korea

Letters to Santa are now sorted by machines
Then sold to a call centre in The Philippines

It’s their job to establish who’s been naughty, who’s been nice
A judgement, not behaviour based, but net return and price

A review by company lawyers specifically forbade
Scaling rooves and chimneys, Santa’s usual stock in trade

There was Public Liability, trespass and redress
It voided their insurance and breached O H and S

His income, Santa pleaded, wouldn’t keep an elf alive
His boss threatened to replace him with a Visa 245

Reclaim Australia was having none of that
Reckon Santa must be Muslim, with that beard and funny hat

They demanded the Air Force turn Santa Claus away
We might have stopped the boats, now they’re coming in by sleigh

Santa always said he would know when it was time
He’d outlived his usefulness now Christmas was online

There were offers to relocate to either Russia or Angola
But he couldn’t take his costume – it was trademarked Coca-Cola

All the milk and chocolate biscuits we left on the mantelpiece
Despite our good intentions made him morbidly obese

All the beer and nips of whisky had given him cirrhosis
Along with diabetes and arteriolosclerosis

Thanks to Global Warming his workshop’s now a lake
Without the elves and reindeer, where’s the give, in give and take?

He subbied for the Tooth Fairy but soon ran out of legs
The Easter Bunny let him go; he kept eating all the eggs

For a while he tried busking but couldn’t give his all
Posing for the tourists taking selfies in the mall

He sat down in the gutter, thinking this is where it ends
All alone! apart from ninety million facebook friends

Then he noticed a queue, and laughter, long and loud
The Myer Christmas Windows had drawn a massive crowd

The joy on children’s faces; a joy he’d thought long gone
In that moment, Santa realised, the spirit still lives on

The sight of happy families warmed him to his bones
They gazed into the window then shopped next door at David Jones

Santa snuck around the back and climbed into the display
Protected from the outside world; you’ll still find him there today

Another thousand years or so he’ll have the money to retire
That’s why Santa’s working weekends in the window at Myer

© Copyright 2016 Ian Bland

Also have a listen to the songs on the new album “Everything or Nothing

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