THE Daily Telegraph includes a very close relationship with Santa Claus and on the eve of Christmas the important man in red has asked us to successfully pass on a message to each girl and boy. He also includes a message to the adults out there also.
In the crayons for the sms messages that I battle to decipher, I inform you, I read every one of letters from santa. It gladdens my heart.
Although you will still find many that don’t write if you ask me much anymore _ too busy I realize, plus there isn’t a decent app for this.
We have, however, been gathering some decent ‘gift intel’ by combing all of your Instagram, Facebook and Google search data. Don’t worry Malcolm, I’ll show you to do that later.
Anyways, I’m form of indebted to hashtags like #wishlist and #stockingstuffers and #bucketlist. They certainly help it become easy, kids nowadays; getting the center man. I concede, I may have gotten a little bit sidetracked searching #ThingsNotToDoAtChristmasParty which helped me cough and splutter a feeling. But seriously folks, directly to the naughty list. Ho, ho, ho.
Now kids, you might notice several changes with Santa this current year. Against my wishes, mind you. But the old red trousers are as loose because the ABC Budget.
You see Mrs Claus has been forcing me on this Paleo diet business. Seems that Pete Evans fella have got to her too! Not that he’s a pain to manage. All he ever asks me for can be a bag of nuts (activated, of course) and some fake tan.
Presently there is absolutely nothing fake about this girl Jacqui Lambie. Well, maybe the botox. And possibly her pledges of party loyalty. And … but anyway, we had been near to aborting this Christmas mission as a result of Jacqui. We would only get clearance to land, based on the Senator, if I brought some funds for the soldiers. And I Also think it is the soldiers that had the guns!
It doesn’t matter just how many Greenie leaflets and alter.org petitions are brought to the North Pole, I won’t alter my ways. Boys, I hear constantly, want Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Nerf guns. And girls plead with me for Frozen dresses and Monster Hill dolls. You don’t mess with this gender stuff. Believe me, I’ve been carrying this out for quite a while.
Talking about gender distinctions, it is actually, may I only say, wonderful being arriving back in Sydney given that I have got so many kindred spirits. I’ve told Mrs Claus many a period of time that long beards would 1 day be cool again. Now could be our time, bearded brothers. Now is our time!
Not too Mrs Claus and I would ever make Sydney our home, just as much as we adore its charm, its mighty fine looks, and Lara Bingle’s antics. It’s just that $1 million buys a hell of lots of North Pole snow. With regards to my eyes, albeit ever fading, can see. In your sparkling city, it either buys a compact bag of Eastern Suburbs ‘snow’ or perhaps a half a vehicle space in Paddington, and only then if you know the agent. (see naughty list).
Plus I’ve delivered way too many favours inside my time and energy to not attract those savvy ICAC investigators. They would be throughout old Santa just like a randy reindeer.
The Treasurer, Joseph. His budget is as wild, untamed and ridiculous as RedFoo’s hair and filmclips. He pleads with me for intervention, but geez pal, I deliver Christmas gifts, not perform miracles.
Once again there is Clover Moore, whose campaign to make Sydney’s streets into a car-less utopia continues unabated by small things, like popular opinion. That little rascal, hasn’t she heard I got a Jeep!
And as there is too many people to name, I’ve grouped other prominent naughty listers into one category. NRL Footballers.
It seems I bought it wrong last 44dexspky when a lot of players requested tablets. Thought they merely wanted iPads, or Kindles.
Then Santa’s little helpers go and send us a YouTube clip that made me choke in my rare seal steak. I mean, when you seriously desire to kill some germs in your mouth, you’d gargle Listerine, right?
Because after the day, it’s you kids which get me excited after i consider New South Wales.
All your wondrous expectations, as well as your thankful grins on Christmas morn.
Sure, you will find lots of gifts, as always. But above all, this season I give you something more important than any toy in the world; something you can’t possibly easily fit in a stocking, something to ease the pain of your troublesome spate of terror and tragedy.