‘Tis the season for our BBC

To glow with tangoed sequinned glee,

For well known folk from stage and screen

Have books to sell and careers to preen.

For endless hours, every night

We can watch with adject delight

As a trussed up turkey from Albert Square

Gallops about with some creosoated mare

Well lucky for you and lucky for me

This series will continue endlessly 

Might just smash the TV and be done

And move to a cave in Azerbaijan 


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