Twas The Week Before...

The Loony Bin ( )
Thu, 20 Dec 01 02:41:09 -0000

Hiya Folks...

Today we turn our attention to Hanukkah once more...

Wishes & Dreams...


*********THE LOONY BIN*************


************ANDROMEDA******Internet Goddess************

  ------- Forwarded foolishness follows -------

Twas the week before Christmas and all round the shul,
Sprawled the marketing team of Kvetch, Cohen, O'Toole.
[That's Avrom O'Toole, a West Hendon boy,
but whose father's great-gran was a Donegal goy]
Old Man Cohen stood up and, his cheek fiery red,
Turned his good eye (the left one) on his colleagues and said:
"It's months since this project on us was wished
So far we've got nowhere, got nothing - gornisht!
It's not like it's really a difficult thing
To make Hanukkah go with a Christmastide swing."

>From his seat at the back rose young Isidore Kvetch,
The son of the founder, a tall, well-dressed wretch,
And o'pning a folder, proceeded to run
Through the focus-group findings for NW1.
"The problem, it seems, is somewhat iconic,
A matter of symbols, of signs, of signs, it's ironic,
For what I am hearing from ABC1s
Is the goyim have got all the marketing guns.
They've got Santa and Rudolph and tasty mince pies,
Saints Joseph and Mary, Saints Morecambe and Wise.
Herod, Harrods and Deb'nams and Boxing Day sales
And poems (like this one), nativity tales.
There's the Queen's Christmas message and the babe in its cradle.
And what have we got? Just some oil and a dreidl."

The three men fell silent, for what could they say?
They were up against something much greater than, er, they.
"Tradition," wailed Cohen, like some squat, new age Tevye
Bemoaning his fate to his partners, his chevrah.
"We had it for ages. It worked so well for us
Now it's theirs, and they're rich, and we're not - just out tsores."

It was Abie O'Toole's turn, and he paused ere he spoke;
Then he said, "I believe I'm an ordin'ry bloke,
All I want in this season is what every man wants,
Just my kids round the table, paper hat on my bonce,
Some food in my belly, a glass full of booze.
Maccabi or Jesus? Well, any excuse.
But think, lads, just think - when was Christmas invented?
Not the tale of the infant and his parents, prevented
>From finding a room in the inn or a house,
But the modern-day Christmas, all that mishegas.
It's all the concoction of Queen Vic and her hubby,
A German called Albert, sort of bearded and chubby.
He sold her the package, all that pine trees and snow,
And holly and ivy, and - well I don't know.

"But, boys, if we're pushing the Hanukkah deal,
It's not poor Joe Public who should hear our spiel.
We must go to the top, where the real power is.
To her highness, her greatness, her goyness - Queen Liz!
Sell he on the dreidl, the oil and the light
And the next thing you know - "Des's Hanukkah Night"

With Gaby and Jamie and Wogan, Begorrah!
All fighting to turn on the West End menorah!

"With her on our side, it'll just run and run,
There'll be "Hanukkah Special" on BBC1
With Brucie and Jimmy both doing their shtik,
And Eastenders latkes on sale in the Vic.
And dreidls on Countdown and kreplach on Corrie
(The Rovers could take on a barman called Morrie).
And Radio Four? How far down can they dumb us?
It's a new panel game - hey! - What's My Shammus?
We'll kosher The Archers and all of their ilk
No more they'll farm barley, just honey and milk
With Phil Archer a frummer - look, Cohen, don't knock it,
And up at the cowshed a new, live-in shochet.

The shops will fill up with new Hanukkah toys,
With Finchley Road Barbie and - one for the boys -
Action Man in his kipah, and his miniature Uzi
And his female sidekick - little Six-Day-War Susie."

And that's how it happened - except just for this:
The Queen wouldn't buy it. "No way," said our Liz.
I'll do Jewish High Days - a Pesach, a Succos -
But hyping up this? You can kish mir im toches!

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