Letter to Santa

Dear Beardy,

For nearly 32 years now you’ve been piking off my mince pies and sherry every Christmas Eve. This year, I’m afraid, its going to have to stop. Several reasons really,

Firstly mince pies are fattening and all that sugar is bad for your health. You’ll fur your arteries and have a heart attack. You’re already a fat fucker anyway, its highly irresponsible. Obesity related diseases cost the NHS millions of pounds in health care not to mention the sugar will give you diabetes. Think about the kids. How will they feel when they learn that Santa’s died of kidney failure brought on by diabetic complications?

Secondly, drinking sherry before setting off on long haul reindeer powered flights is wholly irresponsible. You could injure someone and besides its illegal to drink and drive…so dont do it. Just because you don’t use the roads doesn’t mean that someone wont get injured.

Thirdly, in 32 years you’ve only bought me one item I’ve actually asked you for and even that broke. I’ve been waiting for my McClaren F1 since 1997 and you still haven’t brought it me. I guess if you did you’d bring me some crappy Matchbox model and think “ohh thats funny he’ll like that”. Well I wanted an ATARI Games console but you brought me a sodding VIC20 which was about as much use as a door stop. Everyone else seems to get what they want…have you just singled me out or something? You’re on your last warning mate. I’ll be writing to your employers.

While I am on the subject of your annual visit. I’d like to point out that I don’t appreciate the reindeer shit that appears on my lawn every Christmas Day. Can’t you house train them? Not only that sodding great hoof prints appear when the grounds a bit soggy. Can’t you use the driveway or something?? Its really starting to piss me off. The wife works hard to get the garden into some sort of order, we don’t need Scandinavian wildlife coming along to dig it all up.

Nor do we need your wopping great fuck off sooty boot prints on our nice rug. If you do it again this year I’m coming round with a cleaning bill for you. Oh yeah and dont be just dumping the presents on the floor. There was a time when you put them neatly under the tree in nice little piles. I suppose its too much to ask you to do it again. Actually, thats another point too. The sodding sleigh bells and your bloody laugh. Can you tone it down a bit please? Next doors kids are trying to sleep you know and Mrs Owen gets a bit grouchy with undue noise. Especially in the early hours of the morning.

Anyway, I wont delay you any further because I know you get a lot of mail this time of year. I hope Mrs Santa is well and that the trouble with the RSPCA has all cleared up. (Did you ever get your CRB check sorted?)

Hoping for a McClaren F1 again (you tight fisted old bastard)

Lots of Love

Stegzy Gnomepants.

PS. If you try pulling a stunt like you did the other year where you made it look like I was getting a new PC when in fact it was just a cheapo nasty TV & Video set, I’ll come up to the North Pole and stab you in the face. Understand?

PPS. celticblissy doesn’t deserve any presents this year, she’s been eating marmite again.

PPPS. I really don’t appreciate you putting your bins out in such a noisy fashion. It frightens children and makes the cats worry.

Author: stegzy

Once, long ago, I wrote frequently on Livejournal. I then moved to Blogspot, where I discovered that blogging requires an audience. So I moved back to LJ. Then over to Dreamwidth, back to LJ, up the road of self hosting with Muckybadger before giving up entirely and moving over to Wordpress. It was at that moment I decided I would spread my compostual nonsense simultaneously across the blogosphere like some rancid margarine. And so here I am. I am a badger. But then I'm not really a badger. I am a human. With badger like tendencies. I am a writer, a film producer and a social commentator. I am available for Breakfast TV shows, documentaries and chats in the pub with journalists where I am more than qualified enough to talk confidently about absolute shite and bollocks.

Ghosting Images

Supernatural, occult and folk horror on British TV

The Haunted Generation

"Elastic time to stretch about the eternal moment..."

The Chrysalis

"For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern" -- William Blake

Late to the Theater

Florida women take on culture and stuff.


Come & visit our beautiful, unknown County

%d bloggers like this: