Is it salaried? It's just that I think there are performance issues judging by the above. Comely and Lumley? Bin it and Bennett? Rhyme but no reason I'd say.

than the butt of Cherie that other public figures had to put up with.
Erm actually forget that horrible mental image i just had

Mercy!

It reminds me of my favourite line of poetry ever, written by an 11 year old classmate in 1985. It was about Father Christmas getting the presents on the sleigh:

Santa said, "Oh dear, we haven't got enough;
We'll have to miss out Brian Clough".

Take that, Duffers.

The only other Duffy poem I've read since she became Laureate was "Last Post", which I thought was really rather good:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2009/jul/31/carol-ann-duffy-last-post

... but I must admit the Christams one isn't ... erm, quite up to the same standard.

Dylan and Carol Ann - who'd have thought it? Right pair of yuletide pranksters

see:

http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/top-stories/2009/12/07/the-12-days-of-chris...

I still prefer My Friend Billy.

Worst poet in the world?

I think so.

Had to study her for GCSE. But as a class we refused. Because instead of supposed reasoned criticism, we would have just ripped her poor choice of words and clunky sentiment.

For example, "Valentine":
http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/carol_ann_duffy/poems/8116

"I give you an onion" ??

Is that the best she could come up with?

And having just read that "Last Post" poem, I'm sorry duco01, but that is possibly one of the weakest poems about the war. Compare it to Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, Rupert Brooke or some of Edward Thomas' writings. There's just no comparison is there?

One supects the goose passage is a respectful nod to the magnificent William McGonagall and his playful, yet masterful, repetition of the “town/frown/crown” riff and, of course, the dazzling “goose/loose/abuse“ flourish.

The Christmas Goose (William McGonagall)

Mr. SMIGGS was a gentleman,
And he lived in London town;
His wife she was a good kind soul,
And seldom known to frown.

'Twas on Christmas eve,
And Smiggs and his wife lay cosy in bed,
When the thought of buying a goose
Came into his head.

So the next morning,
Just as the sun rose,
He jump'd out of bed,
And he donn'd his clothes,

Saying, "Peggy, my dear.
You need not frown,
For I'll buy you the best goose
In all London town."

So away to the poultry shop he goes,
And bought the goose, as he did propose,
And for it he paid one crown,
The finest, he thought, in London town.

When Smiggs bought the goose
He suspected no harm,
But a naughty boy stole it
From under his arm.

Then Smiggs he cried, "Stop, thief!
Come back with my goose!"
But the naughty boy laugh'd at him,
And gave him much abuse.

But a policeman captur'd the naughty boy,
And gave the goose to Smiggs,
And said he was greatly bother'd
By a set of juvenile prigs.

So the naughty boy was put in prison
For stealing the goose.,
And got ten days' confinement
Before he got loose.

So Smiggs ran home to his dear Peggy,
Saying, "Hurry, and get this fat goose ready,
That I have bought for one crown;
So, my darling, you need not frown."

"Dear Mr Smiggs, I will not frown:
I'm sure 'tis cheap for one crown,
Especially at Christmas time --
Oh! Mr Smiggs, it's really fine."

"Peggy. it is Christmas time,
So let us drive dull care away,
For we have got a Christmas goose,
So cook it well, I pray.

"No matter how the poor are clothed,
Or if they starve at home,
We'll drink our wine, and eat our goose,
Aye, and pick it to the bone."

That McGonagall was taking the piss, or was he really that bad?

I've seen his grave in Greyfriars Kirkyard, which is a fascinating place to look round.

the joys of all current ' Modern Art '.

But even I can see that's utter toss. And so joyless. Where's the Christmas spirit? It's sits most awkwardly in the Radio Times.