'twas the week before Christmas, when all along the street
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the Gatwick with care,
In hopes that CCTV soon would be there.
The residents were nestled all high in their beds,
While visions of local Police danced in their heads.
And Yvette in her ‘kerchief, and Rose in a heap,
Had just settled their nerves for a busy summer’s peak.
When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
Rose sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window she flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the old rotten sash.
The moon on the crest of the beachfront
Gave the lustre of mid-day to her residents' grunt.
When, what to her wondering eyes should appear,
But CCTV, and seven cameras instilling fear.
With a new Inspector, so motivated and ready,
She knew in a moment it must be Jason Kelly.
More pro-active than eagles his cameras they monitor,
And he whistled, and shouted, they stretch for a kilometer!
And then, in a shock, she looked at the clock
The knocking and calling, it was the producers of the block
As she drew her head, and was turning around,
Down the mail shoot a contract of sale came abound.
Jason sprang to his divy-van, to the traders he gave a whistle,
And hooray they all shouted, The Gatwick's dismissal
Then they heard him exclaim, we've seen the light,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"