Servitude is in my genes

Friends will be surprised to hear that there was nothing over Xmas that I enjoyed more than watching the last episode of Downton Abbey. Sorry, got that sentence wrong: it should read "I enjoyed doing nothing more than watching the last episode of Downton Abbey". However, on the very rare occasions that I have glanced at it over the top of whatever I was reading at the time, I have found myself strangely empathetic to the role of the butler, Carson. At times I've experienced a strange feeling of deja vu watching the man go about his duties. At times, I found myself thinking "no, Carson, no! You shouldn't do it that way" when he was setting the cutlery at the high table or placing the wine glasses in order. 

This puzzled me for a long while until I remembered that I came from butling stock. My great grandfather, George Parsons, was employed as a butler to the family of Colonel Lucas Hansard in Hove. He held this position for some 25 years spanning either side of the turn of the nineteenth century. Before that he had been a footman in the household of Thomas Evans Esq, a county magistrate for Sussex. The daughter of this household, Georgiana Evans, married Colonel Hansard and, presumably, this gave my great grandfather the chance of promotion from footman to butler. The name Hansard may sound familiar as this is the family that gave us the famous record of parliamentary business: Lucas was the son of the founder. As far as I can tell, the Hansards did not have a country house but in a rather grand townhouse in Palmeira Square, just off the seafront in Hove.

All the photographs I have of great grandfather George shows him to be a rather elegant man with, I think, the bearing of a butler. The photograph below shows him with my great grandmother, Emma (Kirkham) who, at one time, was a children's nurse for the Hansards. Considering he was born the son of an illiterate agricultural labourer (I know this as he could only sign his marriage certificate with an X), he did well in his life and left £3526 7s 11p and a house in his will when he died in 1932.

And now I must close as m'lady has just rang for her afternoon tea: cucumber sandwiches don't make themselves, you know.

Xmas Charade

At this time of year, everybody seems to having a quiz. So here's a charade for my grammar-loving (clue) readers.

What am I? And the answer is not a pillock, plonker, wassock or any such figure of speech. But I am an ......

Northern Cyprus: May 2015: Part 5

It's Xmas Day and all is joyful within (and we've had/are having a wonderful time, thank you for asking). But outside the weather is still pretty dismal and prevented us from getting any fresh air. Time to revisit Cyprus for some more sun, warmth and colour.

To Veni Vici in Lapta for an Italian meal. An excellent restaurant and the experience was enhanced by the misplaced apostrophe. We pedants do love a catastrophic apostrophic caligraphic cock-up. Or was it? Perhaps the bottom line had been missed out and it should have read "...cooked by international chef's girlfriend/mother-in-law/boyfriend...or whatever". Or maybe they were offering a magnificent prize for whoever pointed out their mistake to them? And we missed out. Boo hoo.

These Pine Processionary Moths really fascinate me. Their close relative, the Oak Processionary Moth, is beginning to cause a problem in the UK but it hasn't yet reached the West Country. Who knows what climate change will do to its range. We've had Dutch Elm Disease, Larch Dieback and Ash Dieback so UK trees are taking a bashing at the moment.

"Is this my best side?" says Mr Swallowtail. "Any side is your best side" says I, "you are beautiful to look at from all angles".

This is a Marbled White, a rather skittish butterfly that did not stay still for very long.

And here's a Grayling which seemed to prefer flitting over the hot gravel of the track I was walking in. I failed completely to get a shot of it with its wings open. But I remember having great fun trying.

A Large White, previously known as the Cabbage White. This latter name gives away its preference for members of the Brassica family as its food plants, 

A good specimen of a Clouded Yellow Butterfly. There were quite a few of them around but they were uniformly difficult to get a reasonable photograph of.

 

Just a beetle on some Knapweed.

Some flowering cactus to remind us that soon, very soon, our garden will be full of yellow daffodils. And as I found to my cost by getting too close, those spikes penetrate clothes and puncture skin very effectively.

'Tis a time to be merry.........and hypocritical.

The Xmas Messages put out at this time of year are generally a collection of pretty harmless platitudes but Posh Dave's has something extra: a festive helping of hypocrisy.

Amongst other things he said:
“Millions of families are spending this winter in refugee camps or makeshift shelters across Syria and the Middle East, driven from their homes by Daesh [Isis] and Assad."
"Throughout the United Kingdom, some will spend the festive period ill, homeless or alone."
“If there is one thing people want at Christmas, it’s the security of having their family around them and a home that is safe.”

"We must pay tribute to the thousands of doctors, nurses, carers and volunteers who give up their Christmas to help the vulnerable — and to members of the armed forces who are spending this season even further from home.”
"As a Christian country, we must remember what his birth represents: peace, mercy, goodwill and, above all, hope. I believe that we should also reflect on the fact that it is because of these important religious roots and Christian values that Britain has been such a successful home to people of all faiths and none." 

Isn't it a pity his actions, and those of his government, do not match his words or the sentiment presumably behind them. Have we have ever had a government that least reflected Christian values?

Which 'Christian Values' include covering up a report showing thousands of terminally ill people being found 'fit for work' days before dying? Which 'Christian Values' subjects the poor to cruel sanctions and delayed benefits? Or condemns thousands of families to homelessness, temporary accommodation or hostels?

He talks of coming together with his loved ones in safety and security. But what about those whose work is often temporary or casual with an income that will not support a family or provide a home?
 

And it's a bit rich paying tribute to those working over Christmas while cutting public services and pay to the bone and leading a government whose actions have caused NHS staff, and most other public sector workers, to feel taken for granted, in spite of their dedication. Perhaps he should show his gratitude by paying nurses and other health workers a decent wage?

Christian campaigner Symon Hill is quoted as saying: “Jesus sided with the poor, called on the world to change its ways and was executed by political powers with the collusion of religious leaders. If the Tories had been around at the time, they would have labelled him a dangerous extremist and Daily Mail editorials would have demanded his crucifixion. More people are hungry, more people are lonely, as a direct result of Cameron and Osborne’s policies."

Maybe we'll see more of Dave's Christian side in 2016? But, based on what we've seen so far, that might not be a good thing.

 

Northern Cyprus: May 2015: Part 4

Fairly dismal weather in Cornwall recently and it doesn't look like we'll see any marked improvements soon. Searching for an antidote to the gloom, I came across a couple of 'draft' posts from our sojourn in Northern Cyprus earlier this year. I'm not sure why I didn't post them at the time but I'm glad I came across them as they are a nice reminder of happy AND WARMER AND DRIER times!

Whilst others decided to laze by the pool or go shopping, the Dynamic Duo of Bujold and Parsons decided to head for Buffovento Castle. Perched high upon a mountain, it gave the Crusaders a commanding view of the surrounding landscape.

Nowadays wherever we go, one of our first questions is "what is your Wi-Fi code?". In days of yore, it was "where's your jousting field?". At Buffovento, they would have nodded and said "down the hill a few thousand feet".

It follows from the above that if you can go down a few thousand feet, you can also go up. And go up we did. Although most of the climb was not as vertiginous as the stretch shown in the photo, it was still a decent stretch of the legs. But that did not daunt my companion who scampered up like a mountain goat or, to be more accurate, un chèvre de montagne or, to be pedantically precise, un très vieille chèvre de montagne.

The castle was build in several 'layers' and had an irregular shape due to the contours of the mountain it was built on. Although not visible here, most of the rooms were constructed with rainwater cisterns beneath them. Coincidentally, we've just spent some time at the Eden Project in Cornwall and they are making a big deal out of their rainwater trapping systems. A case of old technology being rediscovered?

Odd photos by the wayside Part XXVI. Almost as high as we could go and we come across a carefully placed empty bottle of J.P. Chenet - Ice Edition ROSE. What's the story behind someone carrying this all the way up? A proposal, perhaps, or an illicit assignment?  Or an upmarket picnic?

On a clear day, the coast of Turkey can be seen. But not on this day due to the heat haze.

Pentadacktylos - or the Five Fingered Peak. I would imagine that the ridge walk over the top of these would be fun, assuming that it was possible.

Some swallows nesting under the eaves of a house in the main street of the village of Bellapais. They deserve a mention in recognition of their acrobatics just over the heads of the people walking up the street.

Bellapais is famous for the remains of its 13th century monastery, of which this is the belfry with its single remaining bell.

The entrance to the refectory which is used for concerts and other musical events.

The spirit of Diana lives. It makes you wonder what sort of people are attracted by the name and the placard. Does Northern Cyprus have a 'care in the community' scheme? Perhaps I've stumbled across it?

Star Wars mania

Confession time: I've never seen a Star Wars film. Not a single one and I can't say that I feel at all deprived. In fact, all the publicity surrounding the latest offering has done absolutely nothing to persuade me that I should go along to see it. Au contraire, in fact. The frenzy just passes over my head, pretty much like the second cartoon below. The first one is from yesterday's Guardian (click on it to enlarge it) and I'm sure that I'm not alone in agreeing with the sentiment. May the Force never be with me!

Castell Caerffili

I've mentioned Caerphilly Castle several times in past blogs (see here for the spooky tale of the Green Lady) and how it featured prominently in my childhood memories. I was lucky to be able to regard it as a playground as, in the mid-fifties and early-sixties, it was, as far as I remember, unsupervised and access could be gained through any number of breaches in the walls. The restoration started by the Marquis of Bute had not been completed and the ramparts and towers were still in a derelict state. Not particularly safe but offering fantastic opportunities for exploring and generally scrambling around. Although several of the moats were still dry, the main one was a good place to fish (illegally as we could not afford the licence) and swim. We had Scout camps in the central area and, on at least a couple of occasions, took part in Jamborees and Campfires with Scouts from other troops. All-in-all, we could roam freely within its walls and use it as a community amenity.

But it's all different now, of course. It's closely supervised by Cadw and, as all the moats have been flooded, entry is restricted to the turnstiles: no more getting in for free. The Main Hall has been restored and is used for many functions but it's very commercialised and 'ye olde worlde' themed. The towers and ramparts have been stabilised and offer rather sterile fun to youngsters. To my mind, a little danger brings with it excitement and an opportunity to learn how to look after yourself. Sadly, the 'wrap 'em up in cotton wool' brigade hold sway and younger generations no longer have the chance to experience the castle 'up close and dirty'. A great shame.

And what's prompted my diatribe? A couple of film clips from Cadw that came my way recently. The first gives an aerial view of the castle and, I'll admit, that I've forgotten how big it is and how impressive the fortifications are. The second is a CGI reconstruction of the original castle from what remains today. It's very cleverly done and well worth watching, even though the production team have been watching too many episodes of The Game of Thrones. A much better way of spending a few minutes than staring at the Xmas tree and tinsel.

Obsessive? Moi?

An interesting Desert Island Discs this week where the surgeon, author and former Reith lecturer, Atul Gawande, was the 'castaway'. What I found interesting was not his choice of music but some of the comments he made during the interview which rang a bell with me. At various times he mentioned that he was congenitally curious (ding!), that he could not look at anything without wondering about it (ding!), that he was an information junky (ding!), that he was an information sponge (ding!) and that he loved the internet for giving him access to so much information at his finger tips (ding! ding!)

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had this insatiable curiosity to learn more. I've always liked gathering information and, although that may sound really nerdy and geeky, it’s true. I like doing research before a trip or walk to make sure I know about anything (and I do mean anything - buildings, flora, fauna, history) interesting we'll encounter. I like reading blogs, writing my blog, reading books, reading magazines and newspapers, watching news programmes, listening to the radio...I even read instruction books and labels on tins, if there's nothing else to hand. And I love the internet because it feeds my habit.

Admittedly, a lot of the information I read is replicative, especially between news sources. That’s not a problem, however as it provides with me with multiple viewpoints on a single story and allows me to make my own decisions instead of having to accept someone else's spin on an issue.

Consuming information is essential to my understanding of the world around me. Hooray for curiosity and a double hooray for the search for information to satisfy it.

Trumpty Dumpty

I am fascinated/dismayed/intrigued/appalled/repelled in almost equal measure by the Trump phenomenon. And here's a thread of thinking that went through my head as I attempted to clear our garage of 10 years of accumulated detritus. Lest you think that it was strange for me to be thinking of The Donald at the time, I should say that his latest wise words on racial harmony were featuring prominently on the Radio 4 news programmes as I rummaged amongst the old paint pots and odd bits of metal that I once thought "would come in handy one day" and never did.

Politicians generally walk on egg shells. Always weighing their words for fear of upsetting someone; always weighing their actions for fear of offending someone; always being someone they are probably not; never being spontaneous; always censoring their true opinions.

You don't believe me? Just look at any of our leaders and politicians in action. Their every word is measured. They speak slowly with ahs, ums and pauses while they filter their thoughts fearing any potentially offensive statement or word that will be tomorrow's headline. They never get to the point. They thrive on ambiguity.

 And this is where Donald Trump comes in. He just does not care. He does not walk on egg shells. Or, as he puts it himself "I. Don't. Care". 

Some might say that the disadvantage of this is he says things that upset people. He makes claims that are patently not true. He does not think things through when he is interviewed. The Donald does. not. care. He does not walk on egg shells.   

To his supporters, of which there are many and the numbers seems to be holding up, the advantage of The Donald not walking on egg shells is that they know where he stands. He is not wishy washy.  He does not take one position in one state and take another in the next. He does not waffle or double talk his way around his thoughts. He does not back down or apologise. When challenged he looks his inquisitor in the eye and says:

“Are you kidding me? That is not what I said; I would never say that, you must be a sick person or un-American to interpret those words that way!”

Sometimes his denials are only tentatively related to the truth, if at all, but his supporters are finding it refreshing to hear someone actually standing by what he says. How often in interviews of people attending one of his rabble-rousing, bile-spewing meetings have you heard them say something like: "You may not like what he says.  You may disagree with what he says. But you do know what he says. You know who he is. You know what you are getting. It is just refreshing to know what a politician supports".

In the race to the bottom, Trump seems to be uniquely placed. His xenophobic tirades seem to have done little to harm his status amongst the Republican faithful. Will he get his party's nomination? I still think that that's unlikely but, if he does, he won't be the first political figure to go from ridiculous to dangerous. Beyond that, his legacy may be what he is doing to American political life. Discrimination has entered the public discourse and that is causing alarming divisions and insecurities in a cosmopolitan and sometimes unpredictable country. 

And we should not be feeling smug. Trump's attraction is not too different from that of the Front National, Ukip or any of the range of far right parties making headway in Europe.

Will we all end up with egg on our faces? And now it's back to the paint pots and odd bits of wood.

Yo, ho ho.............or not

Remember, inside every one of these.......................

 

There is one of these trying to get out....................

 

The deed is done.

* If you don’t want to blow up buildings, if you don’t want to wreak havoc and destruction, if you want to seek a peaceful resolution to conflict – then you’re a terrorist sympathiser. 

* If you don’t want to go to war, if you seek to broaden debate, if you believe that fighting for peace is a contradiction in terms – then you’re a fascist. 
* If you want talks not violence, if you seek consensus not victory, if you refuse to fetishise force – then you’re guilty of disrespecting the armed services.

Welcome to British values in the 21st century, a century born in war and continuing in war, a country where the peacemakers are condemned as extremists and attack is defined as defence. Welcome to British values, where you support the armed forces by sending them to die in foreign lands where they have no business being.

Disgruntled of Higher Downgate

1st December 1915: On this day Rundle Coumbe died

Although, as the above citation in the Commonwealth War Graves Commission records shows, he was a soldier in the Canadian Army, Rundle Coumbe was Cornish. He was born in 1893 at Underhill Farm in Tutwell, a hamlet in the east of Stoke Climsland Parish, and was one of the four sons of James and Elizabeth Coumbe. He was working on the family farm when he emigrated to Canada in 1913, a move which, at the time, was not uncommon as opportunities for farmers in Canada were actively promoted in the UK. He travelled 2nd Class on the White Star Dominion Line's passenger ship, the SS Arabic, departing Liverpool on 29th March, landing in Portland, Maine on 9th April and finally disembarking at Halifax. He was travelling with his cousin, Rendell Coumbe, both men having their mother's maiden name as their Christian name, a common practice at the time in this part of the world. 

Badge of the 19th Alberta Dragoons

From Halifax, he travelled to take up his occupation of farming in Edmonton, Alberta. It was there that he enlisted in the Canadian Overseas Expeditionary Force on February 8th 1915 and his Attestation Papers show that he had already spent 16 months in a militia unit (the 19th Alberta Dragoons). He was assigned subsequently to the 3rd Canadian Mounted Rifles.

Cap badge of the 3rd Mounted Rifles

At some point the regiment moved to England to take up quarters in Shorncliffe Army Camp. Shorncliffe, just outside of Folkestone at Cheriton, was used as a staging post for troops destined for the Western Front during World War I and, from April 1915, a Canadian Training Division was formed there. The Regimental War Diary details their training on a day-by-day basis and also records the many visits they had from royal personages and high ranking military officials. From the middle of September onwards, preparations for moving to the Front are evident, culminating in this entry for September 22nd 1915:

 

9.30 Muster parade in morning. 25 Officers - 551 other ranks (except advance parties) were all present.
Orders received to move.
5.20 p.m. Left Camp 447 all ranks.
6.10 p.m.  Regiment arrived FOLKESTONE HARBOUR WHARF.
6.30 p.m.  Regiment all shipped.
6.40 p.m.  Boat left Folkestone.
9.00 p.m.  Regiment arrived BOULOGNE.
9.45 p.m.  Left wharf and marched to #3 LARGE REST CAMP.
10.30 p.m.  Arrived at #3 LARGE REST CAMP.

Within a few days the CMR had moved to the front line at Dickebusch near Ypres and over the next couple of months were fully engaged in active service in the trenches. Full details can be read in the Regimental War Diary and the entry for Wednesday December 1st 1915 is given below:

The most salient passage is:

2 p.m. - Heavy artillery duel. In the early stages the heavy artillery was paying attention to Brigade and Divisional Hdqrs. About 2.20 p.m. Regimental Hdqrs., communication trenches, support and front line trenches came under shrapnel and H.E. shell fire which continued until sunset.

Nine named soldiers, including Rundle Coumbe, died as a result of this bombardment.

Rundle's body was originally interred in the Rosenberg Château Military Cemetery but was subsequently exhumed and reinterred with many others (very controversially, and much reported at the times, because the owner of the chateau objected to having a cemetery on his land) in 1930 to the Berks Cemetery Extension, just south of Ypres.

Copies of the burial records for Rundle Coumbe

His final resting place is at Reference II.D.34 and his headstone is inscribed with a quote, chosen by his mother at the time of his reinterrment, from the hymn Rock of Ages:

Thou Rock of Ages,

I am hiding in thee

As well as being commemorated on the war memorials in Stoke Climsland, Rundle Coumbe received recognition and a full citation on the Canadian Great War Project website. Footnote: Rundle Coumbe's medals were auctioned on 2nd March 2005 in London and were sold for £210. No details of this transaction are available as the records of the auctioneers do not go back that far.

If it's not in your name, why not say something?

There is a common criticism often voiced about Muslims with respect to the terrorist acts that Al Qaeda, IS and other groups commit using the Muslim religion to legitimatise their despicable acts. The criticism is: "why do you keep so silent about what's being done in your name?". And the implicit conclusion drawn by many is that silence indicates complicity or, at the very least, support. Cue inflammatory headlines in the gutter press and right-wingers foaming at the mouth and spewing their bile over us.

Although there have been some Muslim leaders who very quickly and unambiguously disavowed and condemned terrorist acts, from the majority of Muslims overwhelmingly there seems to have been silence. Perhaps this silence is understandable when you consider the brutality of the terrorists. I suspect, but I don't know, that there has been, and probably still is, a very reasonable fear in the Muslim communities of horrible retribution on anyone that speaks against the Jihadis. Fear and intimidation are very effective until what people are feeling and experiencing is as frightening as what they fear. At that point even the timid fight back.

Ignore the headlines in the Sun and the Mail: I believe we are seeing the start of that fight back. The silence seems to be changing: voices are being raised. 'Ordinary' Muslims are beginning to speak out against the terrorists and as the number of voices being raised increases, terrorist intimidation will decrease, recruitment and indoctrination will diminish, and we will see defections in the terrorist camps.

 

It will be slow in the beginning, but if true Muslims continue to stand up for their faith, the terrorists will be defeated. In fact it is the only way that this perversion will truly be eradicated. The bombs and bullets favoured by Cameron and his fellow travellers might snuff out the infernos but it will take the voices of true faithful to stamp out all the embers.

Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong. But, unfortunately, I'm pretty certain in thinking that the moderates won't get a chance to develop and deliver what we all want. Events in Parliament this week will probably see the hawks get their way. And I find that very sad.

Shall we? Shan't we?

David Cameron and many others seem to be determined to join in the action and add our little bit of misery to probably the most miserable place on earth at the moment. As Jeremy Corbyn has just sent me an e-mail asking my opinion on the matter, here are my thoughts on the question of the week: To bomb or not to bomb Syria? 

Will bombing IS in Syria make it safer for us here? 

I don't believe it will. The biggest threat to us seems to be from small groups of highly motivated terrorists acting in a dispersed fashion. Take into consideration the relatively unsophisticated hardware they need to wreak their havoc and the ease of control and command through the Internet, I can't see how bombing bases in Syria is going to prevent attacks in the UK and elsewhere. And will bombing them actually increase the possibility of retaliation? That seems both probable and plausible to me.

Will bombing IS in Syria get rid of them?
Again, I don't believe it will. They are now so firmly embedded within the civilian population it's going to be nigh on impossible to get at them with air strikes. At best bombing will slow and hinder any more major advances. Can anyone remember the last time something was mended by dropping a bomb on it?

My view is that if the allies want to defeat IS anytime soon, say in the next decade or so, then they are going to have to get in amongst them at the sharp end. And, let's face it, no western country has got the stomach for that little adventure and that's why they arm groups like the Peshmerga and send them off to battle as proxies. IS is a Muslim problem that can only be really defeated by the rest of the Islamic world rejecting IS's ridiculous and perverted ideology and their hijacking of the faith of billions of peace loving people around the world. Dropping bombs kills people but it does not kill an ideology: that can only be done from within and by the very people this death cult claims to represent.
 

 It's time to try a different track and here's where I get really depressed. Although they cry crocodile tears about the consequences, politicians can understand bombing and it makes them look as if they are  in control and are doing something. The problem is that they seem set on doing the wrong thing and without a coherent strategy for managing the aftermath. More often than not, doing the wrong thing is worse than doing nothing. Or have I missed something?

It's Chriiisstmaaasss! Time to take to the hills

(An update of something from this time last year, prompted by a recent visit to Tesco's in Callington where Slade appeared to be caught in a never-ending loop due to a technical hitch. I was not the only person to emerge reeling into the car park, feeling bilious and with fewer items in my shopping basket than intended. It was, however, strangely comforting, and more than a little gratifying, to see the 'Bah Humbug' spirit so much in evidence. Hooray, it's not just me!).

 

The season is with us, folks, when we curmudgeons have lots to sound off about. And there's nothing that irritates us more than the annoying, tedious and repetitive Christmas jingles and tunes we are bombarded with wherever we go. Yes, it's time to be assaulted yet again by an excruciatingly dippy version of “It’s A Jingly Jangly Jolly Holy Holly Santa Snowy Sleigh Ride” or some such. It really is snow joke (sorry) and yule (double sorry) regret venturing out when it's being played. Once I hear Noddy Holder screeching dementedly 'It's Chriiisstmaaasss!', I want to perforate my eardrums with a red hot needle.

But I never do, of course, because not all Christmas songs are totally naff. Let Santa Parsons give you an early Xmas present and point you in the direction of some festive fun that will make you forget the tuneless turkeys and the hapless harmonies. You might just find your heart filling up with Christmas joy if you follow the link to the podcast called The Yule Log from Hell.

It's a compilation from Keith Droz of New Jersey that comes out at this time of year and is around 90 minutes of 'alternative' Christmas songs: some straight, some completely off-the-wall, some politically incorrect, some unexpected pearls, some plain awful, some you would definitely not want your mother to hear but all of them infinitely preferable to Wham, Slade, Wizzard and their like. Take a look below at just a few of the songs featured in Episode 1 for 2015 and think where else you could find them. You can't, can you? Because Keith's podcast is unique. Why not download them all and entertain your friends and family to around 20 hours of festive glee? I have and I will - so, visitors to Colinette Barn, you have been warned!

 
* Santa Claus Looks Like My Daddy – Danny Kaye
* Christmas (baby please come home) – Jon Bon Jovi
* Christmas Seals - Leonard Nimoy
* Santa Claus Is Doing the Monkey – Arnold Dover
* Merry Twist-mas – The Marcels
* Jingle Bells – The GURU Project
* 21st Century Christmas – Sir Cliff Richard
* Christmas Date Boogie – Pete Johnson/Joe Turner
* I’m Gettin’ Pissed for Christmas – Peter and the Test Tube Babies
* Christmas On the Dance Floor – Gerard Joling
* Santa Claus, Go Straight To the Ghetto – Mint Condition
* The Little Drummer Boy – Sir Christopher Lee