OK, I'll say this once... and once only! Listen up, everybody. This year, I... that's me... I will not, repeat not... play Santa Claus for the village orphans' Christmas party... Got that?
No, please, it's no use you trying to butter me up, I hate, loathe and despise the bloody job. And it's not even as though I'm any good at it. I can't stand kids... with or without tangible parents. And anyway... red was never my colour, makes me look anaemic. And my feet sweat terribly in those Wellington boots... And that stupid white beard does nothing whatsoever for me, and when I want to take a drag on my fag, it puts me in serious danger of self-immolation.
No! I will not be persuaded, it's just not my scene, OK? And no, my decision has nothing to do with that five-year-old... cherub, who threw up all over me last year. And it has also nothing to do with the behaviour of that sadistic little bastard who yanked at my beard and shoved his dainty little booty into my... a very delicate part of my anatomy. That's what happens when you come over all cuddly and put the little sods on your lap.
Look... this is silly, I'm not going through all that again. I've hated kids even before propagation became a national sport. For goodness' sake! Why me? Ask somebody else, I can't be the only fat, middle-aged citizen of this village. What about Leli from the pizzeria? He's at least as obese as me and much nearer to Santa's presumed age.
No, I'm sorry, I've made up my mind, and anyway I don't want to get typecast. It's bad enough getting saddled for five years on the trot with playing the second thief in the Good Friday procession. I do not want to go down in history, or at least the history of this village, as Santa Claus. Get Leli to do it... he actually quite likes kids, so he's got the drop on me before he even gets dragged up in the beard and the Santa suit.
I blame Mrs Farrugia Demello, from the friends of the orphans, she was the one who talked me into this in the first place, it's all her fault. Just because she wants to play an attendant fairy every year, she feels she has the right to say who plays Santa. And there's no way she should still be playing a fairy... she looks like a woolly mammoth in drag, it's disgusting... enough to put the orphans off their charity Christmas lunch.
No, I have decided! Read my lips! No more Santa for me... Especially after last year's disaster, when they mixed up the presents and all the little girls' gifts got wrapped in blue paper, and all the little boys' in pink. So all the girls ended up with violent video games and all the boys got Barbie. But what was even more astonishing was that only three of the boys agreed to swap with the girls.
And do you realise that on top of that prime cock-up, I'm even being sued over one of the few gifts that did actually get to the child of the correct gender?
What do I mean?
I'll tell you what I mean. The brat that got the toy AK47, promptly went and held up a service station with it... making off with five grand! Silly little sod, if he'd done a bank he'd have got ten times that!
Look... I'm just not Santa material. Give the job to Leli, he's gagging to do it. And please... don't hold that conviction for interfering with little girls against him. That was years ago... he's over all that.
No don't plead... Get up off your knees, it is unseemly for grown adults to grovel. I said no and I mean... How much expenses?
Ah well, that's different... but you'll have to let the suit out a bit, I've been training for the role on pasta and gateau. And do I have to wear those naff Wellingtons?... "