Jim Hopkins: Christmas carols to wish you a nouveau Noel noir

Can't you see it shining bright?

All very well some foppish French cove dashing about in brocade pantaloons and telling anybody who'd listen that "the more things change the more they stay the same", but Monsieur le Clever Clogs obviously hasn't been in our niche aux Susan (neck of the Woods) lately.

Because, round here, when we change things, boy, do they stay changed. Christmas is a classic example. It used to be mangers and mirth, peace on earth and a cursory nod in the general direction of Bethlehem. But not any more.

Not when we've got marauding bands of rogue Santas roaming the streets and cheerfully hanging a sock on somebody's jaw rather than the nearest chimney, or festive taxi drivers getting ruthlessly behatted, and people taking grave exception to the L***'s P*****r at school assemblies.

There's no "same" in that lot, Mr French philosophe, Sir. Au cointreau, it's all very nouvelle and somewhat noir, too.

The signs of this tectonic shift are everywhere. In the supermarket, for instance, at the magazine section, you won't find the traditional Woman's Weekly staples: 15 Toys You Can Make With Spare Christmas Stuffing or How To Knit A Straitjacket. What you will find is this week's Woman's Day Jen's Xmas Bombshell. I'm having my own baby.

And if that reproductive miracle doesn't appeal, try New Idea: Kirstie's Xmas sex diet. Santa bring me a man!

Johnny Craig, perhaps? Or someone with their own liposucker?

Actually it doesn't really matter. The point is, "Santa bring me a man!" is not what we're used to.

Indeed, there are decent Presbyterian folk round here who've started shopping with their eyes closed. And going home with two Toilet Ducks instead of a chicken as a result.

But they'd better get used to it. The change seems irreversible. We won't be recycling ye olde worlde Christmas any time soon.

Unless our extinguished poet laureate, Mr Jam Hipkins, has his way. Mr Hipkins believes he's found a solution that might placate the nostalgic, and that French chapeau.

We haven't heard much from the laureate lately, mainly because he's done a Peter Jackson and gone global, carving out a virtually unnoticed international career as a songwriter.

In fact, he had a huge hit in Iraq during the recent elections with a remake of I Got You, Babe performed by top Bagdhad duo, Sunni and Shia:

They say our hope won't pay the rent

And Western life is truly deca-dent

But, now, at last, you hear our voice

'Cos you and me, we're free to make a choice

Hey, we vote too, babe

We vote too babe

Actually, it was that very song that gave the laureate his inspiration. "If we want to make a change that feels the same," he reasoned, "why not celebrate the new Christmas with the old melodies?"

So that's what he's done. Although not always entirely successfully: I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas ...

So I've booked a trip to Cronulla.

Yes, alright, okay, we all have our off days. At least the man's trying. And sometimes getting it right. Imagine the highway happiness if the LTSA adopted this Rudolph remake:

Rude oaf, the red light's plain here

Can't you see it shining bright?

All of us other drivers

Hope that you will STOP tonight!!!

Don't you know the light's turned green

That means you have to halt

Or else you'll cause an accident

And it will be your fault!

Oh, rude oaf ... etc etc

And those who still hanker for something spiritual in the festive season might enjoy this:

Away in a manger,

No crib for a bed

The little Lord Jesus

Lays down his sweet head

But please do not mention

Such sad Christmas tales

They might offend migrants

And hurt retail sales

Equally, since politicians seem to be our new saviours (certainly in their own estimation), another of the laureate's rejigged favourites could also find favour:

Deck the House with loads of lolly,

Tra la la la la, la la la la

Make the MPs all feel jolly

Tra la la la la, la la la la

Thanks to Santa's Pay Commission

Tra la la, la la la, la la la

Their wallets are in fine condition

Tra la la la la, la la la la.

Another group his approach might reach is the alienated young, who would surely respond to this updated classic:

Silent night, holy night

Parties rage, people fight

Hear the urgin' frenzied and wild

"Thump him, Jason You shouldn't be mild.

He nicked everyone's P ... eee

He.e.e. nicked everyone's P!"

And the laureate hasn't forgotten the journalists either:

Hark, the Herald writers bring

Stories that will make you sing

Tales of Christmas here today

Stories of our new age way

SANTA FOUND IN KIRSTIE'S BED,

BOB AND WINSTON TIPPED TO WED

Hark, the Herald writers bring

All the news on everything

So there we have it. A new approach to an old celebration. Controversial perhaps but nevertheless infusing what we've got with a little of what we had.

And, provided you don't mention the L***'s P****r or breach the noise limits like those naughty Salvationists in Wellington, there's still time to recruit a choir, learn the lyrics, find a truck and hit the streets. It is Christmas, after all.