On The Twelfth Day Of Christmas…

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Twelve lords a-leaping…

Appearing in court today was Mr Mike Rullove after his bizarre campaign of terror against a local family…

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The moral of the story of ‘The Twelve Days Of Christmas’ is that sometimes the person giving the gifts doesn’t know that they’re unwelcome. They might reasonably think that their gifts are a romantic gesture that’s blowing Daisy away.

Or – as in this case – Daisy was clear and honest with everyone, told Mike to stop and he should’ve done.

But really, who wouldn’t think it a romantic and not annoying gesture to send; twelve jumping lords, twenty-two dancing ladies, thirty pipers, thirty-six drummers, forty milkmaids and their cows, forty-two swans and geese, forty calling birds, thirty french hens, twenty-two turtle doves and a dozen partridges in their respective pear trees?

Although even someone as shallow as Daisy wouldn’t mind about the forty gold rings.

On The Eleventh Day Of Christmas…

On the eleventh day of Christmas my truelove sent to me,
Eleven ladies dancing…

Dear Mr Rullove,

As the solicitor for Miss Daisy Christmas and her family I have been asked to inform you that you and your gifts are no longer welcome at their home. Please do not contact them again, and any further deliveries – new or repeated from previous days – will be considered a section 2 harassment.

You will have fulfilled these criteria because you have been asked now to cease and desist, as is required in such a case.

I would ask you to contact my office at the address above to make arrangements to collect the presents in a timely manner. If you choose not to do so the gifts will be disposed of and the family will send you a bill for any out of pocket expenses.

Daisy assures me that your intentions were well meant, and this is the reason the family are not already seeking charges against you. You are lucky she is so forgiving and not given imagining you are a pantomime villain with evil intent. In the light of her feelings, the family have decided this is appropriate under the circumstances, however now you are aware that your attentions are unwelcome, and know of the distress the gifts are causing to the family and to the neighbourhood, we hope you recognise that you have overplayed your romantic gesture and stop.

Yours sincerely,

A Barrister, QC

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On The Tenth Day Of Christmas…

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Ten pipers piping…

Bagpipes now? What’s wrong with you? The neighbours are on the verge of point of storming the house with flaming torches, and quite frankly I can see their point.

The drummers yesterday were bad enough. Particularly after all the fighting animals and screeching birds keeping everybody awake all night. I think you hate me.

Since Christmas you’ve sent thirty gold rings (thank you, I’ll keep those!), eighteen drummers, twenty four cows and women dressed as milk maids, twenty eight swans, thirty geese,  twenty eight calling birds, twenty four hens, eighteen doves, ten partridges in ten pear trees. And now these people playing bagpipes.

If you keep this up I’m going to the police. 

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On The Ninth Day Of Christmas…

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Nine drummers drumming…

Dear Mike,

I never realised how much the twelve days of Christmas drag on until they become twelve mornings where you dread the next delivery. I thought it was just to do with how long you’re allowed to keep your Christmas decorations up.

It doesn’t matter what you send anyway. We’ve had a letter from the council. There’ve been complaints from the neighbours and the council think we have an unregistered zoo. They’re going to fine us if we don’t get rid of all the birds. The council noise abatement people turned up just as nine bloody drummers came around the corner. And all the sodding birds, cows, and the rest. What the hell do you expect me to do with them all. You can only eat so many eggs, chickens and geese. The swans attacked the geese. The screeching and squawking was unbearable. Have you ever tried to stop a fight between two dozen massive flapping birds? It’s impossible. It’s downright dangerous. What’s worse, it scared the cows, and they trampled the garden

I’ve asked you to stop, but you just don’t. And now we’re in trouble. We’re going to get fined, sued and maybe even arrested.

Why are you doing this to me? I thought you loved me!

Daisy.

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On The Eighth Day Of Christmas…

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Eight maids a-milking…

Mike,

Are you taking the piss? Why have you sent me a bunch of women dressed as milk maids, each with a cow in tow?

Dad’s livid. The cows trampled all over the front garden, and you think he was cross about the bird mess in the conservatory? That’s nothing compared to the cows.

All the birds again. Well, we let the doves go straight away, and dad took the chickens and geese into the back garden and did for them. Thank god he’s not squeamish, wight them all running around after he’d taken their heads off with the hand axe. Why he said your name each time, I’m not sure.

But look, I said stop. You must. Now.

Daisy.

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On The Seventh Day Of Christmas…

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Seven swans a-swimming…

Dear Micheal,

Happy new year. I suppose, but after a very late night being woken by a delivery of swans, geese, singing birds, hens, and doves at seven o’clock this morning wasn’t the best start to a year we could’ve had. And I wish the blasted things would shut up. In honesty, the novelty is wearing off and I have a hangover. The noise isn’t helping.

At least we can kill the chickens, the geese and all the rest, and eat them. But not swans. If we kill them we’re in trouble.

Dad’s ready to brain you. The girls were so impressed last night, but this morning they’d happily kill you too, and I can see their point.

You have to stop now, you’ve taken it too far.

Yours, Daisy.

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