The Scaryduck Christmas Message
Because of this, I wrote this - a Christmas Tale in 100 words - rather making a mockery of Monday's post. See? I can do serious.
A child is born
Displaced persons.
Foreign armies.
No room at the inn, she heavy with child, he with nothing but dignity.
Amongst the animals, in Bethlehem's town, a child is born to the humblest of parents.
No angels to praise, no shepherds offering worship.
Kings and wise men remain far away in their towers, for theirs is the war we wage.
David's star flies overhead, rockets firing death at those below. Insurgency, suicide bombers, refugee camps, bulldozed homes, despair, anger, death is the only release.
Where is the love in the Holy Land?
Where is Christ in Beit Lachem?
And while we're talking war, Riverbend in Baghdad hopes Santa's got an armoured sleigh when he comes to visit this year...
Thursday sees a return to normal abnormal service with the publication of an all-new vomit-flavoured Christmas tale of woe, featuring pain, vomit and a Mark I Ford Cortina.
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