Jingle Balls

If you check your calendar you'll see that Christmas is but a week away, with all its attendant horrors and turpitudes. I (surprise surprise) hate the whole bastard festive period, and can usually be relied upon to spout curmudgeonly bullshit at the slightest provocation. This year, however, I'm almost looking forward to it, although God knows why; maybe I'm pregnant. The fact that I've got all my shopping done already might have something to do with it. That's never happened before.

Anyway, it turns out that Santa (or at least one of the legion of under-employed middle aged men who stand in for him in dingy shopping centres) has decided to buck tradition and forgo the fat suit this year. This health conscious St Nick reckons that being trimmer and leaner will set a better example for the kiddies, and the shopping centre concurs.

"It is time for a change and as Santa is a role model for children, then his body shape is where it should start."

Hang on a second. Back up a bit. Santa? A role model? For children? Really? Leaving aside the fact that he's Western culture's most well-liked trespasser, and the fact that his famous red suit is made from inverted, bloodied deer skin, and that Amnesty's report on the working conditions for elves at his North Pole retreat famously made Kofi Annan shit himself... leaving all that aside, can you think of a single child who actually wants to be Father Christmas? In the same way that other kids want to be, say, astronauts, or ballerinas? Is this conversation likely to occur?

Adult: 'And what do you want to be when you're grown, little man?'
Child: 'Please mister, I want to be Santa!'
Adult: 'A fine profession, young sir, and a growth industry at that. Have a florin, you apple-cheeked rapscallion, and be off before I have you horse whipped and summarily fingered.'

No. Personally, if I had a kid and it expressed a desire to be Santa I'd have it on Ritalin before you could say 'secure unit'. Luckily, kids couldn't give two craps about who Santa is or what he looks like; it's the presents that they're after, the cut-throat little mercenaries. As far as they're concerned Santa could be an eight foot tranny circus performer who farts mustard gas and dances the Lambada so long as he makes with the goodies, and that's all fine and healthy. It's the magic of childhood, and any child who looks up to Santa as some kind of aspirational role model is off their fucking rocker.