(re-posting, with the odd tweak, a festive poem originally written for Crimestoppers ‘Rat on a Rat’ campaign to tackle drug dealers, 2004.)
‘Twas the night before Christmas,
And on a roof broad and flat…
Santa was calling to rat on a rat!
He’d delivered some gifts a few seconds ago
And had spotted some lads in the alley below.
“I recognise that bunch of naughty young chaps,”
He said as he watched them swap money and wraps.
“That’s crystal meth!”, said Santa with shock
And he reached for his mobile, which he kept in his sock.
“I’m breaking bad!”, thought our Mr Claus.
But there was a small problem that caused him to pause:
“I can’t call the police, they’ll want my name –
They’re bound to think that I’m playing a game”.
“I need to do something, but can’t ring the coppers…
I’ve got it! I know! I’ll call Crimestoppers!”
So he dialled oh-eight hundred, triple five, triple one
But noticed that all of his credit had gone.
“It’s a good job that this call is free, eh Prancer?”
Said Santa as he calmly awaited an answer.
The operator picked up the crime-stopping call
And noted the details while Santa told all.
“You might get a reward”, the operator said,
And there came a chuckle from our hero in red.
“Thank you but really I prefer giving tonight,
But only to those on my list – Goodnight!”