Go away children this isn’t for you, it’s for adults, even though it contains no actual “adult” material, where “adult” is used as a euphemism for scatology or sex.


I had trouble with Christmas when I was first married, hated it, always stressy, always dreadful at childhood home in later years.

Actually in the very early years, I remember it being quite pleasant, masses of family around, toys, lots of baking and Aunts.  I really enjoyed that.  It was jolly, not because my parents were believers, but because there was always something good going on.  I like to hang on to that thought, because it’s quite a good memory.

By the time the boys came along, Paula had gone mad every Christmas and spoiled me rotten, as she does now with the boys, and jollied me up again.  And we spent a lot of time off at Christmas and visited, and hung out and it was generally wonderful.

But the boys started asking questions to which I had not which I had not any answers.

Like how could Santa get around the world in one day?  How does he know if we’ve been bad or good?  Who decorates the Christmas tree on the evening of Uly’s birthday, (six days before Christmas).  Why don’t we park on Yellow lines?

We don’t park on yellow lines because they have a compound that melts tyres, and then the ticket is for littering.

So, in the style of Calvin’s Dad, I answered the questions as best I could.

It’s clear to me that when I die I’m going to hell.

For example,

How could Santa get around the world in one day?

Ah, well, you see Santa doesn’t actually have get around the world in a single day.  The Dutch, to pick someone at random, have their gifts on December 5th.  Different people do things at different times.  Santa has a holiday in the summer like everyone else, as depicted in Father Christmas goes on Holiday.

How does Santa afford all the presents?

Hobbes, the tiger philosopher seems to think that Santa is just getting into debt, but this is clearly not the case.  Santa can easily afford anything thanks to his lucrative sponsorships deals, (Dom pointed this one out to me when he was very young and we were not sure how we were going to do Christmas one time, so we were trying to manage his expectations), with the life of Coca Cola.  Dom seemed to think at the time that any information on the internet saying that Santa, (no children here, right?), wasn’t real, was an adult conspiracy, was clearly just part of that conspiracy.  We had to “have a word” with Uly before he went to Big School, because we were not sure what his belief status was.  Thanks to my clever evil explanations, his belief was extremely sound indeed.  Um.

How does Santa know if we’ve been good?

Easy one this.  Despite all the spying work they do on the side, Santa’s sponsorship deals are so very lucrative, do a simple search on the web to see how many places his images appear, all that royalty can pay for a great deal of information, and it is the CIA, cleverly disguised as the USA’s Central Intelligence Agency, that collects this information.   Three simple words, Keyhole Satellite Imagery.  It also explains why NORAD are so willing to tracks Santa’s progress on Christmas Eve. It’s actually the CHRISTMAS Intelligence Agency, it just does spying and stuff on the side, because you know, as you’ve got it, might as well use it for terrorism protection and stuff, no point in doubling up.

Who puts up the Christmas tree?

That would be the Christmas Fairy.  Ulysses asks,

“But I saw Mum putting it up one year, couldn’t the Christmas Fairy come?”

“Ah, no son, she is the Christmas Fairy.  She gave up an immortal life to be with me.”

“Oh, cool.”

And that was just fine until we got divorced, (and I can I just say that, as I’m referring to this, that our divorce is basically my fault and not hers, and she still has my utmost respect and love.  More so actually, because she has behaved with openness, grace and dignity throughout.  She still behaves with love and respect towards me and we co-parent.  I go to stay and we get on well.  She is the epitome of a dignified and loving woman).

So Ulysses one day said to me..

“So I just want to get one thing straight Dad.”

“What’s that son?”

“You remember you said Mum was the Christmas Fairy?”


“And you said that she was the Christmas Fairy and that she had given up an immortal life to be with you…”

“Uh, yes.”

“And now you’re divorced.  Just saying , you know.”


Oh, I’m going to hell.  In a hand basket.

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