My name is Santa and I’m a lucky bugger. Who else gets 364 days a year holiday and is able to eat and drink copious amounts without looking like a house or spending months in rehab. Yes, I am the luckiest person in the world or am I?
…for a start what about all those bloody elves with their pointy hat and shoes talking in a ridiculously high pitched whine, it gets on my nerves pretty quickly I can tell you and I’m so close to taking their shiny little wooden hammers by January and shoving them so far up their **CENSORED** until they squeal.
Letters, I get absolutely tonnes of them all asking for something or other. Can I have this, can I have that, I’ve been good, rah, rah, rah. Once you have read one you have read them all so to make things interesting every year I always add something crap to their list just so I can see the disappointment on Christmas Day when amongst all the presents they open a pair of slippers or socks instead of that latest gadget. Little beggars.
Don’t even get me started on the reindeers, bloody Rudolph acting like a diva just because he has a song written about him. Red nose my arse, it’s all the booze he knocks away all year. On Christmas Eve it’s hard enough to get him to stand never mind light the way. The other reindeers hate him, they still call him names but Rudolph just tells them to ‘kiss my nose’, only last year he was that smashed that he ploughed into several rooftops and chimney stacks, my sleigh insurance has gone through the roof!
Impersonators get on my tits too, dressing up in red with a crap beard pretending to be jolly in shopping centres. I have never been jolly in my whole life, what is there to be jolly about, nobody buys me presents every year. What about the mince pies and sherry I hear you say, well I’m bloody sick of them, anybody would be after eating your 25,256,267,384 one. Even the reindeers refuse to help after last year when we were all lavishly sick as we flew over Mansfield, luckily no one noticed.
Grottos. They are not magical, they suck. For a start they are draughty, bad places to fit furniture and too damn festive. Give me a bungalow anyday. If anyone as much as waves a candy cane infront of me after the 25th I swear I will beat them to death with the sticky end.
So this year I’m trying something different, instead of Jolly Fat Boy Santa this year you are getting Santa L Jackson.
Does he look like a bitch? Damn right I do you mother flickers and I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to mince pie and sherry my brothers. And you will know my name is the Santa when I lay my vengeance upon thee! Enough is enough! I’ve had it with these mother flicking reindeer pulling this mother flicking sleigh!
Pass me my sack, it’s the one with mean mother flicker on it. You know me. It’s my duty to please that booty.
Santa L Jackson, you’ll know I’ve visited because I’ll leave you with a sack full of mother flickers and put the ho back in yo ho.