When i was young the old fella used to leave all sorts of stuff out for Santa.I often wondered who was doing better on Xmas day,me or Santa.There was biscuits,Guinness,cake and all sorts of wholesome heart attack inducing luxuries.It was allllllllllll gone the next day.I often thought Santa was 100stone and had ten stone daddy bags.

Anyway,one Xmas eve i looked at all the stuff left out for Santa.I said to myself,unashamedly,Fuck Santa and got this urge to come down when everyone was sleeping and eating all that stuff before Mr hohoho came down the chimney.Thankfully i resisted.

Fast forward to years later when Santa was gone,the tooth fairy was gone,ET was exposed and the cow that jumped over the moon was grounded indefinatly.I looked at the ole fella eating one Xmas and asked him how the fuck he wasnt obese from all the Santa food.He laughed.

The moral of this confession?I was wrong,dead wrong.I should have ate the bloody stuff .All of it.Fuck Santa.


Westside.