Greetings! Welcome to an extra special, extra festive, extra (rather unexpectedly – warnings in advance) profane FAQs session about Christmas time!

FAQs Regarding Christmas Time

This week, Santa Claus joins us to provide answers to our festive questions. So, without further ado, let’s do this so you’re more in the Noël.

Hello, Santa Claus. Thank you for joining us today. It’s a great honour!

[Sits staring at us without saying a word with an odd expression on his face.]

Is he all right? He’s been like that for a few minutes now. Santa? Hello?

[Gurgling]

OH, HE’S TRYING TO SAY SOMETHING! WHAT IS IT, SANTA?!

Who?

YES? YOU CAN DO IT, SANTA!

[Santa is saying nothing. There’s a 20 minute break whilst we drip feed Santa some brandy, after which he became more animated.]

WELCOME BACK, SANTA, BUT DUE TO TIME RESTRAINTS WE NEED TO CRACK ON THROUGH THESE FAQS. SO! WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE CHRISTMAS SONG?

Stop shouting! I Don’t Give A Fuck by Hostile, from its seminal Eve of Destruction album. That one really gives meaning to my purpose.

OH, OKAY. WE REALLY LIKE THAT SLADE ONE – MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY. DO YOU LIKE IT?

No, it makes me vomit chunks from the leftovers in my stomach entrails.

WHAT ABOUT THAT WIZARD ONE? I WISH IT COULD BE CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY? THAT’S GOOD!

I think it’s utter shit.

WHAT ABOUT LAST CHRISTMAS, BY GEORGE MICHAEL?

I don’t remember last Christmas, I was too drunk.

NO, IT’S A SONG. BY GEORGE MICHAEL.

What?!

THE SONG. LAST CHRISTMAS.

I just told you I can’t remember last Christmas. Pay attention, kid, I don’t often repeat myself for people.

IT’S A SONG BY GEORGE MICHAEL. HIS SONG IS CALLED LAST CHRISTMAS.

What, he wrote a song about my last Christmas? I really don’t want to know what I got up to.

LOOK, HERE. LISTEN TO A BIT OF IT FROM THIS YOUTUBE TRACK.

What the fuck is YouTube?!

JUST LISTEN TO THIS, WE’RE SURE YOU’VE HEARD IT A MILLION TIMES.

[Listens to 10 second extract of Last Christmas by George Michael] Jesus fucking Christ, that makes me want to dry heave. Get that goddamn thing away from me, you harbingers of putrescence.

OKAY, NO MORE CHRISTMAS SONGS FOR YOU! HAHAHA. OR, SHOULD TO BE, HO HO HO?

No, it fuckng shouldn’t!

ERM… BUT COULD YOU TELL US WHERE HO HO HO COMES FROM? WHAT’S THE ORIGIN STORY BEHIND YOUR GREATEST CATCHPHRASE?

I had a severe chest infection that meant I couldn’t converse very well. So I could only formulate short words like “fuck off”, “no”, “go away”, “shut up”, and other such things.

“Ho” came about simply as I didn’t have the lung capacity to complete “Holy fucking shit!” Consequently, “ho” is an abbreviation or whatever of that.

It’s a mistake to think it’s Santa Claus in jolly fat man mode. It’s Santa preceding verbally abusive lunatic mode.

OH… YOU DO REALISE “HO HO HO!” FEATURES HEAVILY ON MARKETING AND SALES PRODUCTS ACROSS THE WORLD?

Yeah, it’s hilarious. My little secret. But if folks are none the wiser then I don’t see the problem. It’s like Rudolph’s heroin addiction (like in that 1996 film Trainspotting), the public doesn’t need to know.

Little kids don’t need to know that, stoned last week, he drove my sled across the North Pole just to ram raid the nearest off-licence.

ERM… HOW DID THAT GO FOR HIM?

Well, he had severe frostbite by the time he reached his target – there are a lot of expansive, bleak ice sheets out there. It’s really a miracle he made it to civilization at all.

10 miles from his target his limbs had frozen solid and he was merely a passenger on a collision course with Dave’s Booze & Cigs convenience store.

Thankfully, nothing got in his way and he slammed into the building. Dave was kind enough to call for an ambulance as Rudolph sat there frozen solid snarling, “Give my all your booze and fags, you bastard!”

HUH. OKAY, MOVING ON, WHAT DO YOU THINK CHRISTMAS MEANS TO THE WORLD?

No idea. I make shit. People buy it. That’s the way it’s always been.

DO YOU SEE THE ROLE OF CHRISTMAS CHANGING IN THE FUTURE?

No.

WHY’S THAT?

Because I don’t foresee it.

AND WHY’S THAT?

Shut up!

OKAY… WHY DO YOU HAVE SUCH A CLOSE AFFILIATION WITH COCA-COLA?

Because they give me a shitload of money to do those adverts. But we use a body double, anyway, because Santa and film crews… not a good mix.

REALLY? BUT THAT “HOLIDAYS ARE COMING, HOLIDAYS ARE COMING…” ONE DEFINITELY LOOKS LIKE YOU. WE’D BET GOOD MONEY ON THAT.

Look, get some fat bloke and stick and fake white beard on him and you’ve got a good pass for me. I’ve got 10 body doubles. Four of them live here at the North Pole and go out and act like me if I’m slammed out hungover, or can’t move because of gout.

SO HOW DO WE KNOW WE’RE TALKING TO THE REAL SANTA RIGHT NOW?

You don’t.

WE BET YOU’VE FOBBED US OFF. YOU’RE NOT THE REAL SANTA!

Fuck off, dipshit! I am the real Santa. And I’ll strip stark bollock naked to prove it!

THERE’S REALLY NO NEED FOR THAT…

Here I go, there’s no stopping Santa!

OKAY, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO STRIP NAKED?! HOW IS THAT A GOOD IDEA GIVEN THE CLIMATE WHERE YOU LIVE?!

[Santa is too busy stripping – or at least trying to strip – to respond. A bit drunk on brandy, he gets his socks off but seems baffled by his other clothing items.]

ERM… DO YOU NEED A HAND?

Fuck off, do I need a hand! Pervert! But on second thoughts I’ll keep my clothes on. I’m feeling a bit dizzy. And these trousers look really difficult. At least my feet are airing…

JESUS, SANTA, YOUR FEET SMELL REALLY BAD! CAN YOU PLEASE PUT YOUR SOCKS BACK ON!?

Fuck off, you bastard!

OKAY, WELL WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO WRAP THIS UP. AND ALL BECAUSE OF YOUR FEET!

Like I give a shit!

OKAY THEN, BEST OF LUCK TOMORROW WITH YOUR CHRISTMAS RUN, SANTA CLAUS.

Whatever.