Every year it’s the same.
The chanting starts. Rum. Rum. Rum. Rum. I pull my pillow over my head and try to drown it out, to no avail.
Cue the angelic singers… and a mere 20 seconds into my day the phrase I’ve been dreading all year is heard: ``Come they told me, parum pum pum pum’‘, delivered in the svelte motown tones of Boney M’s Liz Mitchell.
Every year since 1981, in various recording formats, I’ve woken to the sound of my mum pumping out the Boney M’s Christmas album at an unholy volume.
In the early 90s I was momentarily hopeful the change from vinyl to CD would spare us.
Perhaps the transition from CDs to digital will spare me this Christmas. Or Mum will read this column and I’ll be asked to make my own arrangements.
If there’s one thing I want for Christmas, it’s a decent bloody Christmas tune.
Don’t get me wrong; the Boney M Christmas album has some very funky tracks on it. But it transports me to an odd place when mixed with pre-breakfast champagne, last night’s hangover and three sub-six-year-old nieces and nephews.
I suppose things could be worse. Twenty or so years before Boney M’s effort, some genius thought he’d flick the speed on his record player to ultra fast, and the abomination that is Christmas with The Chipmunks was born.
I’m obviously some sort of musical cretin, though: The Christmas Song hit number one in the US and the album won three Grammy awards.
Luckily the exploits of Alvin, Simon, and Theodore failed to make the transition into the 21st century in my mum’s household.
A few others had been harder to shake off.
Remember the third of the 17 times Bob Geldof solved world hunger with Band Aid - Do they Know It’s Christmas?
Answer: yes, they do, although those without wicked presents and plentiful food were probably a bit resentful, or yes, they know, but considering they’re Muslim, Buddhist, or another religion they’re probably fairly indifferent.
(Note: Do They Know It’s Ramadan never broke into the Australian top 40)
Do They Know It’s Christmas contains some delightful observations.
And there won’t be snow in Africa this Christmas time.
(True).
(Here’s to you) raise a glass for everyone/(Here’s to them) underneath that burning sun/Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?
(Sounds a bit smug to my ears).
And the piece de resistance:
Well tonight thank God it’s them instead of you.
(Hear hear, pass the turducken, will you, I’m famished).
Personally I’m a fan of Christmas songs which have the ring of truth about them. John Denver’s Please Daddy, Don’t Get Drunk this Christmas would strike a chord in many a family home.
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus could well be the precursor to a pretty tense Christmas Day.
Personally, I’ve decided it’s time to retake some terrritory as far as Christmas Day music selections go.
I’m thinking of buying my nephew a ridiculously expensive remote control car, just so I have an excuse to drag Ministry’s Jesus Built My Hotrod out of the music collection.
I don’t have to get anything for my girlfriend though, because (yep, you guessed it!) last Christmas, I gave her my heart, but the very next day she gave it away.
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