text: Barry: It's my fairytale Christmas song - Val Javin - YorkshireLive
  Barry: It's my fairytale Christmas song
  WE all have our favourite festive tune.
  For some people, it's Noddy Holder announcing "It's Christmas!" For others it's dear old Cliff warbling on about his mistletoe and wine.
  But for me the definitive Christmas song has to be Fairytale of New York by the Pogues.
  The 1987 hit is not your typical upbeat festive tune - there's no snow, no Santa, no sleigh-bells.
  The song tells the story of two alcoholic Irish lovers spitting out their hatred for each other on Christmas Eve.
  The soaring music and the wonderful call-and-response between Pogues frontman Shane MacGowan and the late Kirsty MacColl make Fairytale an unforgettable Christmas tune.
  For me it brings back memories of Christmases past. I remember the song coming on at a seasonal party in 2000, just days after Kirsty MacColl had been killed in a speedboat accident.
  It was quite late in the evening at the Students' Union of Queen's University, Belfast, and a fair amount of drink had been taken.
  As Kirsty started to sing, some of the men on the dance floor were crying as they sang along. Such open displays of male vulnerability are extremely rare in Belfast.
  Seven years later, I saw the Pogues perform in Belfast. At the end, of course, they played Fairytale and who should come on to sing Kirsty's part but a certain Sinead O'Connor – looking very alluring in an elf's outfit. That was one to remember as well.
  And on Monday I was lucky enough to hear the song live again when the Pogues played Leeds Academy.
  This time the female part was sung by the banjo player's daughter.
  She wasn't much good if truth be told, but it didn't really matter, as thousands of us roared along joyously to the chorus.
  The Pogues are in their 50s now and the years of hard drinking have taken their toll. They haven't recorded anything of note for nearly 20 years.
  But none of that mattered on Monday night, as the slightly shambolic figure of Shane MacGowan came on stage to a massive cheer. The crowd were happy, I thought, just to see that he had made it through another year.
  MacGowan had to take several breathers to make it through the set.
  But his shortcomings are irrelevant because his songs are so good.
  The tales of drunken high-junks, of love and loss, hit home as hard as the first time you heard them.
  It was good to see a nice spread of ages at the gig.
  It was fairly civilised at the back with the grey hairs, while down at the front the young uns – who weren't even born when the Pogues were in their pomp – were diving around like their lives depended on it.
  As the latest X Factor nobody speeds his vacuous way to the Christmas number 1, it's refreshing to know that a band like the Pogues – the polar opposite of such manufactured drivel – are still so popular.
  Who, 20 years from now, will remember these tedious Simon Cowell acts? Perhaps not even Cowell himself.
  But people will still be listening to the Pogues in 20 years – indeed, I would hope, in 100 years – because the band is based in a deep-rooted tradition. Although influenced by punk, the Pogues are fundamentally an Irish folk group.
  Like many downtrodden people, with no official voice, the Irish have always spoken to the world through music.
  Sometimes simplistic, often sentimental, but undoubtedly powerful.
  And this genuineness shines through in all the Pogues songs, to be appreciated by anyone, be they young or old, Irish or not.