Last Saturday arvo we held our inaugural Enthusiast Christmas carol singalong in a Melbourne piano bar. It was great fun and we’ll definitely be doing it again next year. Apart from our lusty renditions of Hazard by Richard Marx and Africa by Toto, perhaps the most fun we had was retooling the words of popular carols to reflect on the year’s events.

So we thought we’d share a few with you. We hope you’ll gather around the pianola, eggnog in hand, to belt out these 2009 classics. Merry Christmas!

A Dog In The Manger

Away in a manger
No crib for a bed
We welcome the Messiah
Little Ben Naparstek

Morrie and Mannie love him
From heaven he was sent
But to everyone else
He is Nappy No-Friends

Eric Ellis was spiked
He was pining for the past
When he played as a rogue
In the World of Warhaft

But for 2010
We wish Ben all the best
And we hope he learns the meaning of
Conflict of interest

Oink To The World

Oink to the world, disease is come
Let earth receive her flu

Let every joke have porcine references

And piggy-wiggy-wiggy-wiggy-woo
And piggy-wiggy-wiggy-wiggy-woo
And piggy, and wiggy, and wiggy-woo

Oink to the world, the schools shut down
When Roxon intervened

“We’ve got five million doses for all these diagnoses!”

So kids were all vaccined
And homes were quarantined
And box sets, and box sets of DVDs screened

Now we’re blasé, it’s not so bad
Our readiness grows slack
But doctors start to fret That it’s not over yet

And swine flu’s coming back
Tucked into Santa’s sack

The worst second coming since iSnack

We Three Kings

We three kings of Orient aren’t
Each slightly more white than the last
Bradfield, Wentworth, Such a broad church
Now we have Warringah

O Man of Wonder, Man of Might
How we need your brush-browed fight
Rightward leaning, One proceeding
To guide us to a perfect plight

Brendan tried then gave it away,
Bearing signs on his final day,
Nine per cent is only decent
As an economic growth rate

Malcolm fought for what he believed
Won common ground and then was deceived
By the zealots against carbon credits
But he has one more trick up his sleeve

Tony repeats four words to the max
A massive new tax; a massive new tax
Just so we are totally clear
Again: it’s a massive new tax

The Little Soccer Ploy

Come, they told me, pa ra-pa pum pum

That’s what you’ll have to say: pa ra-pa pum pum Instead of “the world game”, pa ra-pa pum pum Because we own that name, pa ra-pa pum pum Ra-pa pum pum Ra-pa pum pum That’s our trademark claim, pa ra-pa pum pum For a large sum

Blame Les Murray, pa ra-pa pum pum!

Since he is our boy too, pa ra-pa pum pum And he once said this phrase, pa ra-pa pum pum We will own it always, pa ra-pa pum pum Ra-pa pum pum Ra-pa pum pum So you’ll have to pay us, pa ra-pa pum pum With a large sum

Sophie snorted: pa ra-pa pum pum!

Come, get your hand off that, pa ra-pa pum pum We just don’t give a rat’s, pa ra-pa pum pum ‘Cause we’ve got Kevin’s cat! pa ra-pa pum pum Ra-pa pum pum Ra-pa pum pum What a silly spat, pa ra-pa pum pum With taxpayers’ funds

Silent Night (as imagined by Tim Holding as he awaited rescue on Mount Feathertop)

Silent Night, Chilly Night
John is gonna tan my hide
I wonder who they sent to look for me?
I bet it’s probably Lynne Kosky

I’m so screwed when they find me
I’m so screwed when they find me

Silent Night, Icy Night
The Herald Sun must be in delight
They’ll have a map of where I last was seen
With stupid arrows and commentary

Will they show some sympathy?
Will they show some sympathy?

Silent Night, Freezing Night
I hope my balls don’t get frostbite
What’s the best way to handle this?
Perhaps with snags and potato crisps

Yes, a barbecue will do
Yes, a barbecue will do

Dickheads We Have Heard On Air

Dickheads we have heard on air
They are Kyle and Jackie O
When a raped kid’s forced to share
We spit out our long macchi-o

Ratings, highest on the radio
Ratings, highest on the radio

Op-eds, why this brouhaha?
Why dwell on Kyle’s many flaws?
You know just how bad they are
From the last scandal they caused

Once from sin-bin they’re released
They’re back to their usual tricks
Saying Magda could slim down
If she were locked in Auschwitz

Come to the boardroom and see
Network suits rolling in cash
They are laughing ’til they wee
At this profitable trash

ACMA slapped them on the wrist
But the station skipped a fine
These two dickheads shall persist
Way past 2009