Dear Mr Claus,
Yes, there is a reason for the formal “tone” – my deep displeasure! You’ve been ignoring me for more decades than I care to recall. Letter after letter, year after year. A lesser person would have given up. But I live by that Samuel Beckett quote: “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”
You, Mr Claus, have made me an expert in failure. No one has failed more times in trying to . . . well . . . encourage you to resume bringing me presents at Christmas. I have always been a good boy. One least deserving of these “fail better” stakes.
How quickly you forget. It always fell to me to finish off the half-glass of sherry (an odd choice of drink for a man, don’t you think?) and the half-eaten slice of Christmas cake you left behind back then. I rarely touched the carrot, intended for Rudolf.
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One of these days you might well change your tune. There’ll be no ignoring my letters then. I just might ignore yours! Yes: as your home at the North Pole begins to melt away with global warming, don’t even think of getting in touch with me looking for help. That is, of course, unless you change your mind after all these years and bring me just one special gift this holy night.
Yes, just one! All I want for Christmas is a flat belly. Nothing more. And one that will last me well into 2023, if not for ever and ever, amen. And no thanks, I have absolutely no interest in a six-pack. Just your ordinary Roscommon or garden belly will do me fine. I wouldn’t say No to a six-pack of the original kind, with six bottles of beer. (Just joking.)
Yes, among Ethiopia’s Bodi tribe the most desired men have the largest bellies. (You might consider going there yourself when the North Pole melts). The more belly you have, the more attractive you are. (Clearly, Mr Claus, you are in the wrong tribe.)
For my part I have no plans to go to Ethiopia. In my world a flat belly is the bee’s knees, if you get my drift. Purely, for health reasons, of course. Which is why it is all I want for Christmas.
Belly, from Old English belg, bylig, for leather bag, pouch, pod.
