The council wanted ‘Winter’ Lights along Oxford’s High Street But they couldn’t mention Christmas – it gave them all cold feet So busy being PC, ticking boxes was the task That they didn’t stop to think and they didn’t stop to ask.

The reporter from the paper, he thought he ought to know, So asked the Council “Why just ‘festive’? Has ‘Christmas’ got to go?”

They replied “we’re all inclusive now”, but they acted rather tense As they mumbled the good old get out – “mustn’t cause offence…”

“Now that Oxford’s got its mosque and Swindon a Gurdwara We can’t offend a soul, but it’s getting awful hard to Keep everybody happy when they’ve all got different gods So we just called them ‘Festive Lights” and it went through on the nod.”

So there’ll be no angels, no bright star and not a single ass Except the council’s PC mob who couldn’t let it pass, So keen to tell us what to think they’d forgotten to ask others If they minded Christ, or God, or Mary, Jesus’ mother.

So the editor called his reporter and said, “We need the truth now, Chris.”

“Can we ask our local Muslims just what they think of this?

And perhaps a Rabbi too, and we ought to have a Sikh We’ll get them in the paper and let the faiths all speak.

The Muslim, he said “it’s fine with us – Jesus was a prophet.”

And the Rabbi said “we don’t mind – we’re not the ones to knock it.”

And the Sikh said “it’s OK with us, all deities have their place.”

So the council were the only ones scraping egg from off their face.

The moral of the story is rather plain to me, If you focus on what’s PC it’s quite difficult to see, And it’s hard to hear what people think when you’re telling them what to do But ‘Festive Lights’ pleases no-one, so I’ll bid “Merry Christmas” to you.

Mark McArthur-Christie

Church Street

Bampton

Oxford