An Audience with Santa
I don't think you can truly understand the role of Father Christmas without being a parent yourself. He has a different meaning for parents and can be equally as magical.
We were advised to go and see Santa in the Arndale Centre, Manchester. "You can pre-book VIP style and get a time slot", we were told. Brilliant!
So we booked for 12:00hrs and didn't concern ourselves when we saw the massive queues waiting to go inside and see the man. Nonchalantly we grabbed a coffee from Starbucks and went over to waft our VIP tickets in an Elf's face.
Elf: You'll have to join the back of the queue I'm afraid.
Me. No, we have VIP tickets, we have an appointment at 12:00.
Elf. Everyone has tickets, we're running a bit behind sorry.
Me. So what's the point in pre-booking?
Elf. Well that guarantees that you get to see Father Christmas above anyone else who doesn't have tickets.
Me. So, if I'm here in another 5 hours time that guarantees me that I get to see Father Christmas does it?
Elf. Yes!
Taking inspiration of Jean Claude Van-Damme I kicked the small female Elf powerfully to the temple with my shin. I heard a bone snap and she lay lifeless on the floor with blood slowly exiting from her mouth and nose.
An hour later we were taken into the lair where Santa sat. I wondered how he took his toilet breaks and quickly surmised that he must be sat on a toilet covered by his outfit. His junk and anus however would be constantly exposed for when he needed to go.
Mr Pig was slightly curious but Santa was more interested in Kerry and I and offered relationship advice over giving us details about Lapland and Rudolf. I thought it was quite nice but Kerry said it was weird, and then I started thinking it was weird. Maybe he was just talking to mask the plopping sounds coming from the toilet.
Some of this story isn't true.
We were advised to go and see Santa in the Arndale Centre, Manchester. "You can pre-book VIP style and get a time slot", we were told. Brilliant!
So we booked for 12:00hrs and didn't concern ourselves when we saw the massive queues waiting to go inside and see the man. Nonchalantly we grabbed a coffee from Starbucks and went over to waft our VIP tickets in an Elf's face.
Elf: You'll have to join the back of the queue I'm afraid.
Me. No, we have VIP tickets, we have an appointment at 12:00.
Elf. Everyone has tickets, we're running a bit behind sorry.
Me. So what's the point in pre-booking?
Elf. Well that guarantees that you get to see Father Christmas above anyone else who doesn't have tickets.
Me. So, if I'm here in another 5 hours time that guarantees me that I get to see Father Christmas does it?
Elf. Yes!
Taking inspiration of Jean Claude Van-Damme I kicked the small female Elf powerfully to the temple with my shin. I heard a bone snap and she lay lifeless on the floor with blood slowly exiting from her mouth and nose.
An hour later we were taken into the lair where Santa sat. I wondered how he took his toilet breaks and quickly surmised that he must be sat on a toilet covered by his outfit. His junk and anus however would be constantly exposed for when he needed to go.
Mr Pig was slightly curious but Santa was more interested in Kerry and I and offered relationship advice over giving us details about Lapland and Rudolf. I thought it was quite nice but Kerry said it was weird, and then I started thinking it was weird. Maybe he was just talking to mask the plopping sounds coming from the toilet.
Some of this story isn't true.
 |
| "Pooing Santa" |
Comments
Post a Comment