Dear Santa
I’m writing early this year
Especially after the debacle of last year
You delivered the sexy underwear and the two-day hotel break to my wife
What the hell were you thinking
Does my wife look like she can get into a size ten
You useless fat bastard
Two days I had to suffer the wife parading herself
It was psychological torture
Swear to god, if I could’ve got my hands on you
Still swithering on suing your fat ass
This year I’m going to lay it on the line
Deliver it to the wrong address
Your Ho ho ho, will be, Oh oh oh
Do I make myself clear
Now listen up
Face pack and support tights
They go to the wife
Basque and French knickers, hotel included
To the lover
Don’t make me go back to that hotel with the wife
Or, I swear, you’ll be wearing those reindeer
Do you need a reminder
Have you got it now
Oh, and merry Christmas.