Remember, it's better to give than it is to receive. Except for oral sex of course.

Good King Wenceslas Gary Numan once fell out Of his bedroom window Climbed in through the chimney but Landed in hot cinders Brightly shone his arse that night Though the frost was cruel Kept him warm for months on end Saved tons of winter fuel.

Dressed as Santa, Gary delivers Martin's Christmas present

Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer Gary the White Faced Pop Star Gary the White faced Pop Star Had a very shiny head He wasn't very happy All his follicles were dead All of the British media Used to laugh and take the piss Radio wouldn't touch him So Gary he stopped having hits Then one foggy Christmas Eve Mr Manson came to say Gary with your songs so dark Can I play "Down In The Park?" Then how the media loved him And he shouted out with glee My head is no longer shiny I've had transplant surgery

Frosty the Snowman (A cautionary tale) Frosty the Snowman Was a Gary Numan Fan With his dyed-black hair and ear ring His complexion pale and wan. Frosty the Snowman Was a Numanoid they say He was made of snow But the children know He sang Numan songs all day. There must have been some magic In that merkin that they found For when they slipped it onto him He began to fool around. Frosty the Snowman Was as horny as can be And the children say He could shag all day With a nice young boy or three. Frosty the Snowman Became a paedophile that day So he said "Come on And we'll have some fun Before the cops lock me away". Down to the village With his privates in his hand Running here and there all round the square Saying "eat me if you can". He led them down the streets of town Right to the vice squad cop Who said "I'll shoot your balls off Unless right now you stop!" Frosty the Snowman Was sent down for 20 years Once through the door His arse was sore In that prison full of queers. Thumpety thump thump Thumpety thump thump What an awful fate Thumpety thump thump Thumpety thump thump Raped by his cell mate.

Some people travelled a fuck of a long way to that one-off gig......

The Night Before Christmas 'Twas the night before Christmas, such a hot time of year When even the mouse was drinking cold beer The stockings were hung by the chimney with care In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there The children were nestled all snug in their beds While visions of Exile CDs danced in their heads. After 20 cold beers, I was having a piss Carefully aiming, so that I didn't miss When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I pissed on my feet trying to see what was the matter. I quickly finished having a slash Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash It was too fucking dark to see anything But I heard a voice nasally sing Then what to my wondering eyes should appear But a Stingray Corvette, and eight tiny reindeer Then I recognised that voice in the dark As it carried on singing Down In The Park More rapid than teenagers with wank mags they came And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name "Now Slasher! now Wanker! now Poofter and Nick Kent! On Vomit! on Putrid! on Donger and Shithead! To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall! Hurry up, you bastards, or I'll have your balls!" Cracking his whip (which was made in Australia) He got poor Donger on his genitalia So up to the house-top the reindeer they flew With the 'vette full of toys, and St Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, the driver he goofed And crash-landed his 'Vette right there on my roof As I did up my fly, and was turning around Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed in black leather, the Telekon way Despite all the make-up, he didn't look gay A bundle of CDs he had flung on his back And he looked like he'd been getting high on good crack. His eyes - how they twinked in the light of the fire His cheeks were white, like a spooky vampire He was wearing eyeliner, and lipstick too And the hair on his head was a shocking bright blue He wore huge Exile boots, they looked quite a treat But he cursed the bastards for killing his feet I saw his tattoo as he bent over his sack The names of 500 shags, inscribed on his back. He was a little bit hungry, so he gave a shout As he spotted the sausages the kids had left out He quickly drank down the glass of coke And when it was gone he finally spoke "You've been very naughty this year - quite amiss Your stupid website's been taking the piss" No autobiography was given to me I got a lump of coal, and an old NME Then back off to the chimney he quickly made And disappeared faster than Grey Parade But I heard him exclaim, as he buggered off quick "That'll teach you, you bastard, your site makes me sick!"