‘Tis the season

“Silent night, holy night,” they sang sweetly. “All is calm, all is bright. Round yon v-” PLAPFFBBB! Suddenly a sleigh-load of manure was flung across the street by a catapult erected solely for that purpose, and this surprise seasonal offensive in the decades-old neighbourly feud was the most devastating yet, showering all the singers, the man at the door, his porch and a goodly portion of his hallway in admittedly high-quality animal cack.