Carol will sing of many many things.

Oh the Toilet Botherers have been busy,
informed half the bus driving world.  Just ahead
of Sunday when the Evilistic Preacher
will be heard.  All the witches will be pretty;
all decked out for prayer.  Their hunting knifes
are hidden in between jingle bells and Mryrh...
So if you are curious, all are invited to join...
Except those that are being bothered,
easily excluded, by the closing door.

Carol will be singing, in a voice so proud,
the old, old songs of Christianity, on familiar ground.
Old scores will have been settled.  Or so it will be said.
I'm booked to work my socks off, a few miles and thoughts ahead.
The Toilet Botherers: a windsome couple, each recognisable
for deeds untold to dread, are to be rewarded for community service
in watching over acts so terrible, that all must be told before bed.

Oh deck your halls with holly, kiss each love twice, en-natural
never tell them that love is rare, particular, respectful and unconditional.
You have to wonder at the acts of humanity, why people wander
in and out of lives they should not inhabit, or cramp originality.
It's all to be said on Sunday, 10:30 sharp. A weekly report of this and that,
and where it will take the Toilet Botherers, in a glow of Satanic Red!

Down to the depths, to a given place, as the Yorkshire Hymn

is hammered swiftly into space. How they have suffered,

the awesome disgrace, of being invited to bother

another, in a private place.