It's entirely appropriate that Shane Patrick Lysaght MacGowan was born on Christmas Day because his celebrated song Fairytale Of New York seems to be just about everybody's favourite festive piece of music.
There are more polls than mince pies about the song . . . it's the most-played Christmas song of the 21st Century. The best to cook to. The best to drive to. The best to dance with your mother-in-law to (OK, I made up that one). The polls are harmless and meaningless. Why, did you know that Heinz Frozen UK declared this week that the Pogues classic was the nations' "favourite Christmas song to cook to"? Poor old Bing Crosby is past its sell-by date, apparantly.
And did you know the famous MacGowan drawl is the one we most like to bop along to in our cars at this time of year? A poll conducted by sat nav manufacturer Garmin® showed that 21% of motorists like to drive to. A nerdy examination of the poll, carried out by YouGov, shows that it was even more popular among the Welsh - where it garnered 34% of the votes. Maybe it's the communal singing aspect that edged The Pogues well ahead of Wizzard and Slade. Poor old Chuck Berry's Run Rudolph Run came in eighth, incidentally, listed as having 0% of the votes.
More significantly, the 1987 song by the Pogues - once censored by the BBC for its raw language - was announced as the most-played Christmas song of the century by music licensing body PPL, leapfrogging Wham's Last Christmas. It certainly still sells. It has been in the Christmas Top 20 during seven different years and was No14 on the 2011 singles charts released yesterday.
My advice is to forget the polls and just enjoy again a really cracking, funny song, whose title was taken from a 1972 book called A Fairytale of New York by James Patrick Donleavy. The magical lyrics of MacGowan and banjo player Jem Finer - allied to verve of the band and the fine vocals by Kirsty MacColl - make it something special and enduring.
But cooking to? Driving to? No. Isn't A Fairytale of New York best enjoyed, drink in hand, as you sway and sing with friends at a boisterous party? Altogether now:
You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God it's our last
The boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing Galway Bay
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day.
