I realise it's six months too early for a Mohammed Christmas special. But whenever Pakistan persecutes blasphemers, I feel the urge to share another blasphemous poem -- and this is the most offensive one I've written recently.

Mo-Ho-Ho

Mohammed trudged among the damned
And grumbled, pissed, for hell was crammed
With joyful demons, revelling.
He yelled, "Haram, the shit you sing!
A Christmas carol!?! Where's your pride,
To celebrate the twat who died
Upon his cross? (I hope it hurt
And made his Jewish innards squirt!)
It's bad enough they celebrate
Upon the Earth! I fucking hate
To hear the infidels rejoice,
But here in hell? You have no choice:
Reject the Nazarean scum!
A Christmas party? Fucking dumb!
You sinners should be cursing him!
You demons too, he made you swim
In lakes of lava—" "Actually,"
A teacher chided, "Mo, you see,
It's magma when it's underground..."
Mohammed made a snorting sound.
A fiend of gluttony opined:
"His birthday sees us wined and dined!
Eternal torment's quite the chore;
This Yule I'll eat my weight or more
In turkey, stuffing, brussel sprouts,
And drink a lake or thereabouts!"
A succubus said, "Stealing souls,
Seducing hard to hit my goals,
And stomping sinners' cocks to goo?
I need a little me-time too!
A chance to drink and sing and dance!
Don't mope, you jerk! Give fun a chance!"
The fiends and sinners echoed her,
Infernal prince to larcener.
Mohammed shunned them, traipsed away,
And vowed to ruin Christmas Day.

"But how?" he mused. "I... What's that noise?
That merry jingle? It annoys!
A jolly laugh, a chiming bell?
It's Santa Claus! He's come to hell!"
And sure enough, a sleigh flew past;
Mohammed chased, it dropped at last;
The reindeer landed, clattering,
Their magic hoofbeats scattering
A hundred swirling hellfire sparks,
Evoking triple-headed barks;
The runners sliced and smeared the ash,
And skidded hard to end the dash
In front of Satan's citadel,
The grandest house in all of hell.
"It's Nick!" said Satan, strolling forth,
"My cousin from the frozen north!
You've gained a heap of weight, you slob:
A scarlet sumo-wrestling blob!"
And Santa rolled out from his sleigh
And chuckled, "How's aboot you, eh?
You dipped your nose in fallen snow
Or snorted half a ton of blow?
The abs are nice, I'll give you that...
With heroin you don't get fat!"
They laughed, embraced, exchanging gifts:
A sword for Satan, several fifths
Of moonshine straight from heaven's still;
For Santa's magic sleigh, a grill
That blazed his name in gems and gold
From hell's own mines, their worth untold.
Then Satan beckoned him inside:
"We'll quaff and feast before you ride!"
They vanished through the castle gate;
Mohammed cheered this twist of fate.

He leapt in Santa's magic sleigh
And nudged the sack of gifts away.
"You reindeer better fucking fly..."
He drew his knife. "...or else you die!
I'll cut your throats, halal you up,
And chuck your guts to Satan's pup!"
The reindeer ran and rose and flew,
Inferno opened, let them through.
Mohammed whooped to see the stars;
"This Christmas Eve is mine, kuffaars!"
A festive market teemed below
With mulled wine, artificial snow,
A Christmas tree and webs of lights,
A manger scene and other sights.
Mohammed glowered; "Fuck is this?
That Jewish bastard's birth brings bliss!?!"
He reached in Santa's magic sack
And conjured weapons, howled, "Attack!"
He lobbed jihadist bomber vests,
Explosions shredded limbs and chests.
Mohammed made the reindeer swoop
And swing around the nearest group
Of screaming parents, children too,
He drew a sword and hacked them through
Their necks and sent their heads aflight
And cackled, "Yeah! Too fucking right!
You infidels forgot my way!?!"
He smashed a girl beneath the sleigh.
He soared and found a perfect spot
To land and watch the dying rot:
A church's roof; he kicked the cross.
"Begone, you piece of Christian dross!"
It fell and crushed a little boy;
Mohammed ululated joy.
He turned to fetch the magic sack;
"Jihad is tiring. Need a snack..."

"Mohammed!" came a voice on high;
A golden light bisected sky
And hosts of angels sang a song.
"Did hell not teach you right from wrong?"
And Jesus landed on the roof
And glared; Mohammed sneered, aloof:
"I wondered if you had the balls
To heed the shrieking losers' calls."
"How dare you walk upon the Earth
And slaughter those who praise my birth?
Repent, you fool, or else be smote!"
"Go fuck yourself and fuck a goat!"
So Jesus drew his golden blade,
Said, "Very well. The choice is made."
Mohammed met him, steel on steel,
His slashes made poor Jesus reel.
"I've slain a hundred Jews like you
And raped an equal number too!
In life you preached and gave out fish;
I bet you now begin to wish
You'd lived like me, the warlike way!"
He knocked him back against the sleigh
And Jesus bled and tripped and sprawled.
Mohammed waved his sword and called:
"Behold, you angels, watch his doom
And find his corpse an empty tomb!"
"Mohammed..." Jesus raised his hand.
"Your final chance, you understand?
Repent and lay your sword aside."
"I'll flay your fucking Jewish hide!"
He moved to strike and Jesus roared:
"You're right, I never led a horde!
At feats of arms, I'm not so great...
But I can transubstantiate!"
He turned Mohammed's blood to booze
And staggered up and cried, "You lose!"
Mohammed gurgled, frothed, and fell,
And Jesus sent him back to hell.

The demons had their holiday
And also made Mohammed pay:
They draped his guts around the tree;
He howled, "You're doing blasphemy!"
A succubus castrated him
Upon a merry Christmas whim;
She waved his bits while carolling
And laughed, "Mohammed, join me! Sing!"
He screeched in deepest agony;
She trilled along in harmony.