Although it’s only be the fourth day of December, my tics woke up in a festive
mood. I was involuntarily singing ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ but with slightly
less conventional lyrics:

“On the first day of Christmas, Oprah gave to me, a sheepdog in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas, Boris Johnson gave to me, two broken buses and
a bucket in a pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas, sheepdog gave to me, three corned beef sarnies, two
rolling news items, and a pickled onion in a pear tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas, Ben Nevis gave to me, four burly biscuits, three
French protests, two turtledoves and a sheepdog in a pear tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my liver gave to me, five rainbow beech huts, four
random moments, three calling birds, eighteen Roman dicks, and a glove puppet in a
pear tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas Alan Hanson gave to me, six geese a-layin’, five
bearded biscuits, four calling birds, three French hens, two dirty secrets, and a Prime
Minister in a pile of poo.

On the seventh day of Christmas, Nunhead gave to me, seven lady cats, six geese a
Layin’, five golden rings, four elephants dancing, three hench-men, two turtle doves,
and a memo about pear tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eight bits of biscuit, seven
wailing walls, six geese a-layin’, five golden sheep, four calling birds, three rubber
bands, two tired eyes, and David Blaine in a pear tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, nine lords a-sleeping, eight
maids a-milkin’, seven swans a-pissing, buffy the vampire slayer, five golden orbs,
four calling birds, three French hens, two ratty cats, and a demonstrative older lady.

On the tenth day of Christmas Kenneth Branagh gave to me, one steely silence, nine
table legs, eight maiden flights, seven monochrome minutes, six greasy geese, five
wheel ups, four calling nerds, three French Bens, two mud kitchens, and a sheepdog
in a pear tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eleven lactating teats, ten
traders dancing, nine creepy lords, eight bent bins, seven tiny minds, six steamed
buns, five golden eggs, four calling birds, three big tents, two deep breaths, and
the whole of Swindon in a pear tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my sheepdog gave to me, twelve loud lambs, eleven
cheeky sheep, ten sheepy sheep, sheep, nine leaping sheep, eight brown bears,
seven woolly sheep, six sheepdogs sleeping, five golden rings, four sheepy heads,
three French sheep, two loving dogs, and a cataract the size of a tree.”

This carried on throughout the day on a seemingly endless loop until my tics eventually moved
on to jingle bells!