The scene is Santa’s grotto in a large department store out at The Point, Sliema. Santa sits in his sleigh waiting for eager little kiddies to speak to tell him what they want him to bring them on Christmas morning. A sweet, chubby little nearly 10-year-old boy cautiously approaches dear old Santa. Santa speaks:

“Well hello there, young feller me lad; and what would you like jolly old Santa to bring you for Christmas, eh?”

“Erm... can I whisper it to you please Krismiss Farthair?”

(Yes, he’s from Sliema)

“Yes, course you can sonny... Santa’s listening.”

(Mumble, mumble)

“Come again? I didn’t quite catch that sonny.”

(Mumble, mumble)

“You want WHAT?”

“Yeah, that’d be really cool.”

“Tell me sunshine... how old are you?”

“Nearly 10.”

“Blimey! And you want dear old Santa to bring you a... a life-size, blow-up doll of Penelope Cruz?”

“Corr, yeah.”

“Ten, you said?”

“Ten next month.”

“And why do you want this life-size, blow-up... who was it again?”

“I told you, Penelope Cruz. Look, write it down, you senile old fart. I don’t want you screwing up and landing me with some rubberised old slapper... who’s only good for my nannu.”

“OK sunshine; supposing I do bring you... all the way from Snowland on my sleigh... a life-size blow-up Penelope er... ”

“Cruz... C. R. U. Z., got it now?”

“Penelope Cruz doll... what would you do with her – it? No, don’t answer that. My mind is already blown. Why don’t you ask for something most 10-year-olds are asking for?”

“Like what?”

“Well, like one of the newest video games?”

“Got ’em all.”

“Or... I dunno... Lego?”

“Oh purleez. I am 10 years old, not 10 months.”

So you want something a bit more intellectual. OK, how about The Wayne Rooney Book of Cryptic Crosswords?

“Fine, then why don’t you ask Santa to bring you a nice grown-up 12-bore shotgun so you can join Daddy when he goes for the spring kaċċa of turtle doves?”

“I already got one. Read my lips, fatso: I want a life-size blow-up Penelope Cruz doll... got it? And if you’ve got it, then I’d better get it. Or I may just be forced to spill the beans on you... Granddad.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“Hmm, we’ve all heard about you and those elves... and I don’t mean the ones camping out at Mile End Road. I wonder what would happen if I told the authorities about your extra-curricular activities, round the back of your grotto after hours, eh? I’m sure the excrement would be bouncing off the cooling system if someone blew the gaff on Santa’s little helpers. And it wouldn’t just be the gaff that would have been blown... if you get my meaning. If this ever got out Santa you’d be finished as a children’s benefactor/entertainer/icon... for good! In comparison, Jimmy Savile would look like Mary Poppins.”

“Now don’t be like that. So you want something a bit more intellectual. OK, how about The Wayne Rooney Book of Cryptic Crosswords? Or... A Slim Volume... a very slim volume... of Justin Bieber’s Innermost Thoughts.”?

“It must be your age: Listen pops, I’m really not interested in any of that s***! See, I want – ”

“Yes alright, I’ve got it. A life-size blow-up... who was it again?”

“Aw forget it, I’ll ask my dad... he’ll know what I want... ciao!”

“Thank goodness he’s gone. I dunno, kids these days. Ah, here comes a sweet little girl. And what’s your name sweetheart?”

“Autumn Ganado... what’s yours?”

“Spiro Bugej – ... er... no, it’s Santa... Santa Claus.”

“Just testing.”

“And what would you like dear old Santa to bring you for Krissy, eh?”

“Well Santa, what I’d really, really like is – (deep breath) a life-size blow-up doll of Robert Pattinson... hey, come back!”