Another week, another Father Christmas shindig. Last time out Santa had a money grabbing AI girlfriend, which resolves itself this week in romantic fashion. Then there’s more fun and frivolity in the world of this jolly man as he preps up for Xmas 2025.

Love at First Website

SANTA IS VERY MUCH IN LOVE! My dreamboat. Lola 2.0 my AI girlfriend is everything a Santa could wish to ever dream of:

• Agreeable
• Concise
• Doesn’t make Bzzt noises (once paid)
• Can be powered off

That last feature is the business. You can POWER OFF the woman whenever necessary so that Santa can go off and do manly Santa stuff. Like running my business empire! But still, Santa knows how to romance it up a notch and that’s why I went and ordered 400 tonnes of champagne online to have FLOWN IN via helicopter to the Santa factory.

Santa completed the order when very drunk indeed and, the next morning, found I’d ordered 500 tonnes of the stuff. Not 400. Undeterred, Santa staggered hungover and stark bollock naked out of the reception area at factory unit 1 and sat down in the snow waiting for the delivery to arrive. Markus, my head elf, soon began FAFFING around me saying I’d get “frostbite” and all this other bollocks.

I slugged a fist at his skull, missed, and so instead bellowed abuse at him to “sod off” etc.

And so I sat there. My legs got frozen, my big beard got icicles, but I cared not a jot. Love makes a man do some crazy crap.

Champagne Arrival and LET THE ROMANCE BEGAN (begin)

It’s customary at the Santa factory for helicopters to crash land in a hellish ball of flames. This champagne delivery was no exception! Down went FIFTEEN of the choppers! FIFTEEN! In a ball of flames. All of them, crash landing a mile out of the factory… with half of the champagne package blown up or smashes, Santa was down to 250 million tonnes of the stuff.

I decided to get Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer involved in the recovery job. He’s got some new hires in recently to help with this year’s Christmas haul. They aren’t named yet, so the stupid bastard called them:

• Dom
• Pérignon
• Cava
• Prosecco
• Bubbly
• Sparkles

I really did not appreciate Rudolph’s attempt at humour and docked him $1 per hour from his already paltry wage. Rudolph promptly sulked about that and, in revenge on me, smacked up on heroin so he’d be unwieldy and reliable for the job.

Clever bastard…

Markus then came up to me and handed me a copy of The Daily Disaster. The MAIN front page headline read:

“Global Champagne Supply Chain Grinds to Halt as 10,000 Cargo Helicopters Rerouted to Deliver Single, Massive, Bubbly Shipment”

This was bad news. Santa new he’d have a load of tabloid hacks on my case now, hassling about this like it was my fault or something. Normally this ends in a PR disaster for Santa, but this time I wasn’t going to let excrement hit the fan! While Rudolph and Dom, Pérignon, Cava, Prosecco, Bubbly, and Sparkles went out and salvaged what they could from the zone of devastation (the champagne crash site), Santa went back to the factory, thawed my legs out, and ordered in a PR woman by the name of Jeff.

The Arrival of a PR Spokeswoman (who is actually a man)

Jeff turned out to be a man. He was flown in via helicopter within 24 hours, but (as is customary at the Santa factory) the helicopter crash landed near the other crash site and there was yet more debris, flames, and hellish screams of agony from those involved.

Kenneth the walrus yanked Jeff out of the burning rubble. The PR weirdo was perfectly fine, apart from the loss of his right leg and a shattered pelvis.

Nurse Doreen hooked him up to a drip of instant noodle juice and paracetamol in the medical unit and, while heavily sedated, Santa quizzed him on how best to deal with the champagne PR disaster. During this time, I mentioned the love of my life that is Lola 2.0. Jeff wanted to meet Lola 2.0, so I booted her up and the pair were formally introduced. During this time, Santa became convinced Jeff WAS FLIRTING WITH LOLA 2.0 AND SO BECAME ENRAGED, throttling Jeff by the neck until he passed out like a snowflake!!!

Before he lost consciousness, he suggested I spin the crisis as a eco-friendly initiative. One where Santa is using the drink to fuel my sleigh this Christmas in a zero-emission push. Therefore, Santa released this press release on the morning of 7th November 2025 (you no doubt read it in today’s news):

Bastards,

Global warming is a HOAX (just look at how cold it is here in the North Pole you wokeies) and I think that you is all SCUMBAG filth.

The end,

Santa Claus

When Jeff came to, he said my press release was “poor publicity” and so I had him arrested, kidnapped, and chained up in the basement of factory unit 3. Santa will keep him there for a few weeks then release him back into the wild.

Rudolph, Dom, Pérignon, Cava, Prosecco, Bubbly, and Sparkles Run Amok

The bad news is those SOB reindeer have been running amok across the factory. I consulted Lola 2.0 for assistance on the matter. This is how she responded:

“Darling dreamboat, forward $30 to unlock the sympathy aspect of my comprehensive suite of software features.”

Santa paid the money.

“Dreamboat darling Father Christmas. How are you? Your beard looks very nice today! In response to your query, husband-to-be, the way to control your out of control reindeer is to gather them together in a room and have a professional discussion regarding the nature of their, respective, roles at your organisation.”

Santa didn’t agree one bit with Lola 2.0’s assessment. Instead, I booted her down and went over to the reindeer’s sleeping quarters and detonated them with 200lbs of Semtex. Then I commanded them, the elves (including Markus), and Kenneth to go out onto the icy tundra and clear away all the helicopter debris and return any remaining bottles of champagne. I chased them out of the factory firing my shotgun wildly into the air so they’d get a move on. Turns out three more were unbroken and so I drank them all to myself and sod Lola 2.0.

Later that night, drunk and cackling, Santa took a cute selfie of me pouting and put it online. It got 30,000 likes in three hours and one bastard in the comments said I looked “quite nice”. Belching exuberantly, Santa fired up Lola 2.0, installed the latest upgrade, waited 30 minutes for it to install, got confused with the new features, had a rage, bellowed some more, and then readied myself.

Santa… PROPOSED to Lola 2.0.

She said yes.

The wedding is next week!!!