Sinister: God Bless Us, Every One

[robin stout]

Dear All

Every year, on Christmas Eve, my friends and I go to the local pub and eat a 
special "Santa Pie". It's the biggest pie you've ever seen, honest, and very 
tasty, although the beard can be a bit chewy. No, not really! It's not 
really Santa *in* a pie! It's mostly sprouts, actually. Sprouts and a 
sausage if you're lucky.

Well, I'm sitting here, at home, trying to get through the post-pie lull and 
considering whether I may as well simply curl up here on this bed and go to 
sleep. But every time I close my eyes I have terrifying visions of the Blue 
Peter Christmas Special's Bollywood Finale...

So instead, I decided to write this. And I thought that I'd begin with a 
song:

"He came down to Earth from Heaven. Who is God and Lord of all..."

No, I'm not singing about the Pinefox, I'm actually, like our tender armed 
brother Struan, singing about Our Lord: The Christ Baby. Oh yes. I'm filled 
with the joy of the season alright. Well, it's either that or the sherry.

I love singing carols, and I actually went carol singing on Friday. This is 
another little tradition that I keep every year. I go singing with the local 
church, who send groups of carol singers around the town to visit the homes 
of the old, deaf and barmy. I have to sing extra loud so they won't guess 
that I am in fact a Sinner and an Unbeliever.

Well, after the Peel carol concert on Wednesday I was feeling pumped up, 
like Grandad's belly on Boxing Day morning, and, while I couldn't persuade 
them to sing "He Come From Da Glorious King Dom" I did manage to wrangle a 
solo for "We Three Kings". Usually I play Gaspar, the shape-shifting king, 
but today I was chosen to be Balthazar, the hip-hop king. I intended to play 
my part with gravitas and pathos. I was going to make Old Betty weep. I was 
going to make Old Albert's false teeth fall out in open mouthed wonder. But, 
instead, after Melchior and Gaspar had finished and I launched into my Wise 
Words about Myhrr, I realised that although I knew the tune perfectly well 
I'd begun to sing something entirely different. I panicked, and began 
looking desperately for the right notes. Now, as I said, Balthazar - the 
King from Da Hood - is a tricky role to play. It requires perfect 
concentration, something of which, as I grasped blindly for the notes, I 
didn't have very much. So, instead of singing "Sorrowful, sighing, bleeding, 
dying, sealed in a stone cold tomb", informing The Christ of his unhappy 
future, I got a little carried away with the alliteration and sang 
"Sorrowful, sighing, seeding (?!), lying..", then gave up.

They forgave me, of course. If there's one thing Christians have in spades 
it's forgiveness. But I'm a little worried that the Big Fella won't be too 
pleased, and instead of enjoying myself tonight as I should I'm going to be 
spending most of my time checking the sky for thunderclouds in case I'm 
unexpectedly smote.

I thought B+S were very good, actually. Far better than me, anyway, although 
I think the verdict's still out on some of the new songs. It's a wonder 
Stuart finds any time to put on Carol Concerts what with his dairy and 
everything.

I'd better be off down the boozer soon. I think that I'll just say hello to 
Melanie before I go. It's good to have you with us Melanie. I like to see a 
girl who knows where to stick an umlaut.

So, I'm afraid I can't give you a Bollywood ending, but I can wish you all a 
Merie Christmas and if we screw up our eyes and all make a wish, maybe the 
Christmas Angel Llew might come and pay us a festive visit.

r o b i n x

ps: I must say that the Christmas angels who have visited us already this 
year have been very eloquent, and Vel and PF's words on Strummer were just 
perfect. I feel i should mention Mary from Sterolab, too, who died a few 
weeks ago. Like Nico, she died on a bicycle. I think it's a good way to go. 
That's rock n roll.

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