I wasn’t sure whether or not to pen you a letter this year. Last year was pretty disappointing, after I all but got down on my knees and begged for a dog, you didn’t grant my wish. That is unless you chucked the dog down the chimney when the fire was lit and we were out, leaving my present to burn to a cinder. If that was the case, Santa, then I apologise for my lack of gratitude, however you need to know that is also mighty cruel to burn Puppies.
So this year, I am not asking for much. Plus, none of it needs wrapping – because Christ knows how much we all despise wrapping. I did mine last night and have the papercuts to prove it. Because of the quantity of wine I drank to cope with the cutting and sticking, my presents look like they have been wrapped by a toddler. So we plan to tell the family that the three year old did it and face accusations of child labour all through the festive season.
So Santa, first up, you will have to use a bit of magic to grant this one, and we all know that you can fart fairy dust.
I want you to turn all those miserable fecking bastards who get on the commuter train into London every single day and sit next to the window and carefully arrange their bag on the seat next to them so no one else can plonk their arse down in comfort, I want you to turn them into frogs. But before you do I would like you to assault them through the tannoy with an eloquent turn of words describing what ungracious little specimens of society they really are to presume they and their bag both have to have a seat, because sitting next to another unknown member of the human race is such an intolerable experience in their eyes.
If frogs are too tricky and you need more slaves in Lapland feel free to make them elves, but make sure they have to smile all frigging day long and sing Rudolph until they vomit.
See Santa, no wrapping, just fart a bit of fairy dust and make my christmas wish come true.
Then Santa, I would like you to reprogram the kids so they don’t shout anymore, just find their volume switch and turn it all the way down, and whilst you are there, snap off their bickering switch and moaning button. That way Christmas will be a more sunshiney affair.
If you could stop me bellowing as well that would be pleasant, but I suspect if you sort the above, you will be killing two birds with one stone – and not in a dog down the chimney way.
Finally Santa, a size 12 waist – for me, and I expect he who helped create them will quickly forget about the Turbo Trainer (so he can ride his bike indoors) he is hoping for when he unwraps me on Christmas day. Trust me Santa, Turbo Trainers are massive, they take a lot of wrapping and even with the cheap crap stuff from the 99p shop it will still be a unneccessary use of paper. Best stick with shrinking me and making us all happy. I could make some crude joke about riding involving me rather than a bike, but I don’t want to compromise your thinking when you are checking the naughty and nice lists.
That is all Santa,
It is a short one this year.
Have a good Christmas – and here is hoping you make all my dreams come true.
P.S. World Peace would be good also, but I don’t want you to think I am asking for too much….