Dear Dreary.
Tis the season to be jolly but not I'm afraid in our house.
We don't have a chimney. We live in a block of council flats and the truth is, Santa won't stand a chance if he tries to empty his sack round ours.
The only gobble anyone gets round here is round the back of the lift shaft.
Any reports if a stuffed bird on the table is generally some reference to some slapper who's been banged over the pool table in The Needle and Pram pub.
My auntie Mary's boy child isn't called Jesus, nor was he born in a barn on Christmas Day. He's called Leroy and was born in a nightclub on Saturday.
The three Kings appear quite frequently, usually on a poker night.
We do have a Joseph round the local area who, like his famous carpenter namesake, is handy with a piece of wood in his hand. Unfortunately in this case, it's more often than not a baseball bat.
The only reference to Bethlehem is some crude graffiti scrawled on a bench in the bus shelter which eloquently reads 'Beth/Liam shagged 'ere'.
And if people would only scrub their sprouts round 'ere it would at least reduce the queue at the Health Centre.
Please Dreary, don't let Santa stop here. The only light in the night sky folk around these parts follow is the police helicopter.
Yours,
Stella Artwat,
Crumbling Heights,
Mold.


　
　
Dear Stella.
What a sorry state of affairs. Santa does'nt see good or bad, or right or wrong. He just sees where a little hapiness needs to be srinkled, the places where he's most appreciated,where the kids happy smiling faces will light up the most. I suspect the reason for your letter may be a tad more down to earth than you are letting on. I saw your ravaged pockmarked visage on Crimewatch last month. The family business had an early morning visit then? Spared another stretch because there's nobody left to look after the kids? I now know where you're coming from with your desperate dispicable heartless plea to santa. Not nice when your assets are frozen in december. So your ploy will not work, you can tell little Chardonnay, Peaches, Britney, Beyonce, and baby Winston that santa WILL be calling after all. Get back to your day job, do some horizontal overtime, and get those punters sucked. Christmas is for families. If you would like to visit yours,ring HM Prisons to check seasonal opening times. All the best.