In light of all the problems, I have come up with a solution to the problems.

OK. So its fairly obvious to me (and if something's fairly obvious to me, its generally because I've heard it being repeated quite loudly a number of times and possibly someone's written it on my body somewhere) that the reason our Christmas number 1 has become such a marker for controversy is the same reason that Aragorn drove Sauron's armies out of Mount Doom. It's a diversion.

The real problem here, a problem that seems to take up an inordinate amount of space in our precious broadsheets and in my arguably more precious brain  is not that Simon Cowell has been sharpening the music poking holes in our babies' soft, pliable ears. Or that some countries don't have any food (stay with me). The problem isn't that they don't know it's Christmas time, or that we live in a Mad World. The reason Christmas number one has, all of a sudden, had so much ballast, bull-hock and baubles made of pure, unadulterated shit-foxes plastered all over it is, actually, because no-one - I mean no-one - can remember how to write a Christmas song. We have to pour whipped politics over the meringue of our Christmas, so that no-one notices that the sugar and eggs of this metaphor have gone horribly wrong.

It only really occurred to me this year. This year, when the slebs of music decided to record the sound of silence in order to best the power of The X Factor. When ALL OF THE MUSICIANS IN BRITAIN couldn't actually put up a decent FIGHT against Matt Cardle's Some Biffy Song That All The Fans Will Say Isn't As Good As The Original And Those Who Actually Buy It Wont Know Who Biffy Clyro Is But Will Suspect He Is One Of The Bears From In The Night Garden (Are There Even Bears In That? I Don't Know. Probably. But There Are Random Creatures Whose Pants Fall Down. Seriously. Is That Legal? They're Puppets And Stuff. But Still. It's A Bit Weird.)

Honestly though. Think about it. All of the celebs in music world recording John Cage's 4"33 is the schoolyard equivalent of the big kid in school warily eying up the wiry young upstart with the dad who rumour has it taught him real kung-fu n that, and going "I'm, like, not even gonna BOTHER fighting you cos you're not even WORTH it." It's that pathetic. You know what would really prove that the power of independent, glorious bloody MUSIC SWEET SWEET MUSIC was alive, thriving and well in the UK today? A song. A song that we want to hear, at Christmas. If that song existed, those of us with ears (loads of us) would buy it. Those of us with hands (I mean, i've not done the figures, but I'm feeling confident) could even buy it from shops. From SHOPS. That's all we're asking for. I'm sick of having to force down a side of irony with my Christmas dinner. Just fucking write a good christmas song, play it into a thing that records sounds and then and then put what happens when you do that into a thing that will spit out the sound into our ears. It quite literally is that simple.

But you can't, can you, supposedly revolutionary musicians of Britain? No. Not one of you actually bothered to step up to the tinsel gilded plate. So instead, you all silently, collectively hid your rotten, shaking fingers beneath a glossy glove of psuedo-intellectualism and pretended that actually, the option of NOT doing a song was somehow.... better. MORE inspirational. Not playing music, was, actually, a lot more musical that doing something really boring like playing music. Shame on you. Shame on you all.

Luckily for you, I'm not just a pointer-outer, I'm a bloody fixer. When you hire me, I don't just do the spec, I get down on my hands and knees and confuse some more metaphors like you wouldn't believe. In light of what has happened, its become clear to me that someone out there has to bring the magic back to Christmas. I may not be that woman. But it turns out I am. I have written for us a Christmas song that puts Christmas back where it belongs - in the song. All I need now is someone to put it into the recordy box, and we'll finally, finally get this putrid mess of Christmas constipation out of our lives and into the cleansing, shining toilet of the past. This is my gift to the world. Feel free to add your own - your competition is either silence, or a boy who sounds like a woman. Go mental. Freedom is ours! FREEDOM IS OURS!

(Post Script: In order to get the funding to release her xmas single, Natasha was forced to accept donations from the charitable Apple company, a team who have always helped promote the spirit of xmas and believe that festive fun shouldn't be hampered by politics! She and they think that the finished product has not been affected in any way by this partnering, and both teams believe that the combined effort has been a great success! Merry Christmas from everyone at Apple!)

I may not have an ipad
I may not be a Mac
I may not have a teeny weeny Shuffle
Inside my Christmas sack

I may not like your itunes
We may not share FaceTime
But baby when I see you smile
I know that you'll be mine

(chorus)
Ho Ho Ho!
We'll be laughing!
Ho Ho Ho!
When we're buying
Exceedingly reasonably priced products
endorsed by Santa, Santa Jobbs!

Ho Ho Ho!
We'll be singing!
Ho Ho Ho!
When we're playing
with the apps that are on SPECIAL OFFER NOW WHEN YOU SIGN UP TO AN 18 MONTH CONTRACT FOR THE iPHONE 4 ON TMOBILE TODAY SEE WEBSITE OR ASK INSTORE FOR MORE DETAILS

Ho Ho Ho
Ho Ho Ho
Ho Ho Ho
Ho Ho Ho
Ho