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!"