I have recently opened the door to some really rubbish carol singers that would easily fail an X Factor audition.
Because they disturb my peace, I try and make them work for their money and ask them to sing every part of every carol they know.
And I often feel somewhat cheated when they finish thirty-five seconds later.
I think if someone has the audacity to knock on my door and sing for money, I can expect a full two-hour concert, complete with laser lighting, festive looking sets and eight costume changes.
Instead, it’s terrible that most young carol singers can go out armed with one verse of Away In A Manger and get away with a small fortune from vulnerable people who’ll gladly pay them to go away and annoy their neighbours instead.
Personally, I prefer carols sung by uplifting choirs and not by some brow-beaten, frozen children with all the singing ability of feral cats.
Seemingly, parents always send their children out so that they can watch Eastenders in peace. You never get a carol singer call when some dull documentary is on.
Surely responsible adults must realise the dangers of sending their children out so late at night? The danger that an irate householder having been disturbed from the crucial point in their favourite television programme is likely to slap them.
Personally, I prefer the lively up-tempo Frosty The Snowman to the sleep inducing Once In Royal David’s City.
However, last night, I was surprised to find two carol singers standing on my door-step with a synthesizer and mixing desk, wearing reversed baseball caps and singing “Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose because of a bad cocaine habit.”
Carol singers have called at my door every day for the past fortnight, some of them twice, presumably as an encore? So now I can’t wait till after Christmas so at last I’ll be able to enjoy my very own Silent Night.
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