Ho, ho (expletive deleted) ho! Yes it’s me, jolly fat old Santa here. Merry Christmas everybody. Season’s greetings and all that schtik. Yes, it’s that time of year again, the time when all those stringent austerity measures that you’ve assiduously stuck to from January to November go right out of the window and for the next month you spend, spend, spend like a banker on speed.
All auxiliary Santas are under strict instructions from myself personally… not to exceed the proscribed alcohol limit
And speaking personally I have to say I’m delighted that you do. See, it may look as though all those presents I deliver to your kiddy-winks every Christmas Eve are free, gratis and for nothing.
But somebody has to pay for them and ultimately… through your taxes… it’s you. But yes, in case you were interested, I am still up and running and in the very satisfying business of making kiddies’ dreams come true… at least once a year.
One question I am constantly being asked by parents and children alike is: Tell me Santa, how the heck do you manage to get round every house on the planet in just one evening?
And the answer: Actually I don’t… well not me personally that is. Oh yes I still visit a lot of houses on Christmas Eve, but as you can imagine I’d be pushed to cover them all even in a year, let alone in an evening.
So what I do is I employ a legion of auxiliary or proxy Santas to visit the houses that I personally am unable to get round to. I know some people call them imposters, stand-in Santas, Santa look-alikes, etc… but frankly they miss the point.
All of my proxy Santas are hand-picked by me. Each and every one has to be over a certain age, have his own long white curly beard and be at least 15 kilos overweight. This last requirement is perhaps the easiest to fulfill, since we’re told that obesity has become a global problem. Well maybe not quite global, see we don’t get too many recruits from either Somalia or North Korea.
Every January, when I carry out my annual audit of toys and start drawing up my order list for the next Christmas, I also audition literally hundreds of potential auxiliary Santas for the next festive season. Each candidate – apart from the afore-mentioned physical requirements – will be an honours graduate in the art of Yuletide largesse and be possessed of a sunny, nay hearty demeanour.
We at Santa Claus Enterprises Ltd supply the costume, which may have minor variations depending on the territory to be covered by each Santa. We also provide each chosen candidate with a turbo-charged sleigh and six specially bred and trained reindeer.
We tend to stick to the usual names for each reindeer troupe, Dasher Prancer, Dancer, Comet, Vixen, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and of course Rudolph. We can’t always guarantee that Rudolph – or Rudy as we at HQ tend to call him – has a shiny red nose, so a little cosmetic enhancement is sometimes indulged in.
Each of our sleighs is fitted with the most up-to-date anti-pollution technology, we’ve even invested in a handful of electric powered sleighs, but we can only use these in northern Europe and the US at present… at least until the rest of the world gets up to speed with this form of transport. And naturally all of our sleighs are fitted with sat nav and air bags… well you never know what might happen with all that space debris flying around the skies these days.
Each of our chosen Santas… or as you call me in Malta ‘Krismis Faarthair’… has a strict code of company conduct to which he is expected to adhere. For example, while it is very generous of many householders to put out snacks and glasses of whisky for my colleagues and I, all auxiliary Santas are under strict instructions from myself personally… not to exceed the proscribed alcohol limit.
Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if even only one Santa was fingered by the fuzz for being ratted while in charge of a sleigh and reindeer?
These days I have also been obliged to issue strict instructions re chimneys. As you may be aware, in the past we… correction I, have experienced some rather traumatic moments while trying to enter a building via the chimney piece… while carrying a bulky and rather heavy sack of toys. It has not been unknown for me to get stuck halfway down the flue, or to get my pristine red trousers irretrievably soot blackened… or the worst case, where my posterior comes into rather close contact with a still smouldering fire – very nasty. So, in order to minimise all of these extremely unpleasant possibilities, I have given instructions that no chimneys shall be used to enter houses where gifts are to be distributed.
All of my proxies are well versed in the art of clandestine entry into apparently impregnable properties quietly and efficiently. Well have you ever heard Santa come and go on Christmas Eve? Of course you haven’t.
With regard to the presents I get asked for: naturally I keep up-to-date on the sort of stuff that kids go for these days – and my elves help in that respect too. Computer games – as you’d expect – make up the bulk every proxy Santa’s sack. There is still a very steady demand for Princess Barbie and Hello Kitty. They are favourites with little girls of course… although by no means exclusively… no I think we’d better not go there.
Remote controlled cars, Power Wheels dune racers and Lego, are very popular with little boys. I often unfortunately get asked for some rather dubious stuff, like full body waxings and vintage wine. Last year – from Malta – I received the following rather bizarre request; but in a household containing three children under nine years old… I can’t really see any of them being terribly interested in a year’s subscription to a lap dancing club. So I’m afraid I tend to ignore those.
But with my deadline fast approaching I’d better get back to work; I’ve still got a lot to get through before C day. Merry Christmas.