Chris was in a particularly good mood. Christmas was almost here and he would have an excuse to visit little Gemma Higginbottom the beautiful 7, no 8, year old girl, that had sucked Santa's Lollipop so well last Christmas. Chris grunted and deposited a blast of faerie seed into Mrs. Cringle's rippling throat then pushed her to one side. He struggled from the bed and climbed into the voluminous red trousers. Mrs. Cringle dutifully got from the bed and helped him on with his shiny black boots.

A while later, as Chris sat down to his breakfast there was a tentative knock at the door. "Come in!" shouted Chris gruffly.
The door opened and in the doorway stood the new Shop Steward of the Amalgamated Union of Elves, Gnomes and Helpful Pixies (AUEGHP Number 29). He tugged nervously at his little leather waistcoat. "I'm presuming that you are not here to announce a strike?"
The elf thought back to the fate of the previous Shop Steward and shuddered. "Uh... Uh... No Santa. Noooo Sir."
"Well then spit it out! Why are you disturbing my breakfast?"
"Uh... We have a little problem."
"What is it for goodness sake!"
"Well remember when your workshop was privatised?"
"Yes of course. We made some impressive savings."
"Well the accountants sent around a note that the number of elves had to be cut."
"Yes...?"
"Uhmm. It's Christmas Eve and we haven't finished the toys!"
Chris pushed his chair back and rubbed his hands over his face. As he stomped towards the door he muttered to himself. "Thank FUCK it's my last year!"

Finally, with only about an hour to spare, everything was finished. The sleigh was loaded and the reindeer dragged away from their poker game. Chris, at last acting like Santa, took a large slug of whisky from his hip flask and stood up at the reins. He cracked his whip in the air above Rudolph's head and the sleigh took to the air.

"Ho Ho Ho." he guffawed. As the sleigh disappeared into the night sky it was just possible to make out the sound of Chris's singing "Last Christmas I gave you my dick...".....(cont)