Dear Father Christmas, what on earth went wrong this year? You are normally a pretty cool dude and I love the presents you normally leave under my Christmas tree. Admittedly some of the cooler presents arrived when I was younger. For example, the guns with the suckers was an excellent present.
Even if I only managed to play with them for a brief 30 seconds before they were confiscated and hidden in some dark cupboard or put in the loft for when I was older. However the look on my older sister’s face was priceless when the first and only shot from the pistol hit her on the forehead and stuck. The image still brings a smile to my face. My mum never gave me the pistols back, obviously she was waiting for me to become responsible enough to have them returned and I never reached that level of maturity. I bet they are still in my mum’s loft, with the purple clackers that were also confiscated.
I don’t normally write you letters, I usually rely on your discretion and hope you bring me something nice, like a nice malt whisky, of a crate of wine. You know I don’t need or want socks or scarfs or jumpers that I wouldn’t be seen dead in.
This year I wrote you a really nice letter, I told you I had been good, more or less. I even made promises that are going to be difficult to keep, (some I have already broken) and I asked for something specific to be left under my Christmas tree. I only wanted a wild woman, someone with a sense of humour, who liked wine and could tolerate this black sheep, and what did you leave me? one and a half tons of wet wood! How on earth did you mix up wild woman with wet wood?
Somewhere there is a man who was expecting, a load of wood and is frantically trying to explain to his wife, why there is a woman sitting under his Christmas tree drinking all the wine.
So please do me a favour and sort this little mistake out.
Pecora (waiting for a wild woman) Nera