Dear Santa

Dear Santa ©

By Michael Casey

Well it’s that time of year again, so here’s my list Santa. I have been a good boy, I ate vegetables, I even gave up meat. Trying to stay alive a bit longer after what turned out to be a quadruple heart bypass. I suppose the operation, was your Christmas present to me last year. So can I have something nicer this year. What do you mean, isn’t the gift of life enough?

I suppose you are right Santa, at least I’m not like the Sherlock actor demanding a light sabre, and he’s so nasty about you. How about giving him a copy of Winter Song by Lindesfarne. It’s the Spirit that matters not the big list, a bar of cheap chocolate from  Poundland is the best thing of all if it comes with love.

My mum used to say if they got a hard-boiled egg or an Orange at Easter or Christmas they considered themselves lucky. If you look at the picture of her home, my mum was born in a Manger too, and lived there for 12 years. The glue that holds the family together is the laughter, I know some families only allow Poundland presents to be exchanged.

Ok Santa, can I ask for something simple, you don’t even have to give me anything. Peace and Goodwill to all men? Not exactly Santa. Just some words, that’s all I want. I’m so proud of you, you really share my values as Santa. So what exactly would you like me to say, or do you want me to sing Silent Night in German to you?

No Santa, all I want is 6 numbers for the Lottery, 2, 4, 7, 9,18, 59 for example. Santa looked sad and even began to cry, his tears freezing into his long white beard. Santa I’m sorry, it’s just that we need a bigger house now that the children are growing up, and I’d like to be able to walk around my bed. And I don’t want to share a bathroom with 3 girls, and a female cat who always watches me use the toilet. Revenge for her having a cat litter tray.

Santa refuses to budge, he starts gathering up the reindeer who’ve been grazing on my living room carpet. Dancer who used to have a slots gambling addiction, whispers to me as the take up their position on the sleigh, why not use those numbers you gave as an example to Santa,       2 4 7 9 18 59 . But Santa never spoke those numbers so they’ll never win. Dancer had an idea, Santa are 2 4 7 9 18 59 the first houses on the list?

2 4 7 9 18 59 mused Santa as he looked at the scroll, No you got that all wrong, its 59 18 9 7 4 2 which are first on the list. Dancer winked at me as they pranced into the Christmas sky. So I’ll be trying them on the lottery, if I can find some coins down the back of the settee. Though George Osborne  found £7,000,000,000 down the back of his settee in the Treasury to pay for the Tax Credits. I wonder did he get his sofa from Argos like we did.

Santa is real and I should know cos, he aint that heavy cos he’s my brother. He washes his beard in Persil, and to get the suit to fit so perfectly he wears it in the washing machine as his beard and himself too is washed on setting 28 of the local Chinese laundry. Santa can hold his breath for an awfully long time, he has to as he is so high in the sky there is no atmosphere at times.

Anyway Santa is so dizzy when he comes out of the washing machine, he has to have 3 litres of Dr Pepper to counteract the dizziness. If you look up into the night Christmas sky and hear the sonic boom as Santa goes about his work, it is in fact Santa burping after all the Dr Pepper, and why is Santa so quick? Because he’s using the bathrooms, he did drink 3 litres of Dr Pepper after all.

So Sherlock a very Merry Christmas to you, and if you promise to be good my brother Santa may, just may let you have his very own copy of Lindesfarne’s Winter Song, its Santa’s favourite he plays it in the hifi on the sleigh as he travels the world, in between burping. Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all Men, and thanks to City Hospital and the QE, may God Bless you One and All.