‘Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the blog

Not a creature was stirring, ‘cept our old mangy dog

As I sit down to write this, there’s no sign of my wife

She’s upstairs with Isaac, where she spends half her life

I’ve tried to take over, but he only wants mum

Watching Peppa Pig, or ‘Little Baby Bum’

Then just as it’s quiet, my stomach goes sick

I hear Ollie get up, and the bathroom light click

He’s been in bed for an hour, he should be starting to nap

Not playing with his toys, then going for a crap.

But it’s the same every night, and I need to get fit

So I run up the stairs, to help deal with the shit

At the start of the year, I did a month without booze

As my blog ‘Sandbach Chatter’ started gathering views

I wrote about dieting, and how it didn’t go well

But the thought of exercise, is my idea of hell

I’m not very athletic, not much good at sport

So my wife went online, and two ‘fitbits’ she bought

I wrote about work, and how clients get me stressed

Then listed the Bond films, from the worst to the best

There was an ‘80s song countdown, the ‘90s best hits

A blog about Facebook, and how it gets on my tits

I openly admitted about my obsessive compulsion

How my Kuga broke down, with unexpected propulsion

I took it to Ford, but the service was poor

(sorry about that blog Mum, I think that I swore)

Actually most of my cars, have been rather crap

No good for part-ex, and disposed of as scrap.

In ‘The Blog Princess’, I gave you some clues

That ‘manly’ is never a word you would use

When describing my manner. I’m really not butch.

I’m a walking disaster. I get injured too much

I’ve analysed the lyrics to Elton’s ‘Your Song’

And explained how autumn fans have got it wrong

I saved my family, having spent several days

Trapped in Ikea’s ridiculous maze

I ranted about technology, because nothing much works

About drivers of Beemers and why they are jerks

I wrote a 24-style rant about the boys going to bed

And the stress of packing for a week in the Med

I was ill for the school run, thought my head would explode

I tripped up while dressing, bared my arse to our road

My job got me down, clients gave me the hump

We spent a day up in Blackpool. It’s a fucking dump

I hate musicals, commuting, our hospital in Crewe

(I might have embellished some facts, but most were true)

I know I sound grumpy, a moaning old git

But it’s just for a laugh, not everything’s shit

Take you for example, you’re reading this now

You’ve not given up, you’ve stuck with me somehow

And for that I am grateful, you make this worthwhile

I love writing my blog, hope it makes people smile

But without you, dear reader, no point would there be

I’m truly honoured that you take an interest in me

What started out with my family and a few closest mates

Has spread throughout Britain, then across to the States

I love you for reading, I must make that clear

Have a wonderful Christmas, and I’ll see you next year.