From marble slabs to milk powder to renewed mojo, there’s plenty on Santa’s shopping list this year
Santa Claus is poring over a large world map to choose the safest route for his upcoming tour, concerned over recent air accidents.
Meanwhile another pile of letters, from all parts of the world, asking for gifts, arrives at his door.
He opens the first one; it bears an official kangaroo-emu insignia.
“Dear Mr Claus,” he reads, stopping for a moment to admire the sheer class of the greeting and the paper on which it is presented. “It’s been quite a good year for me. After nearly a decade, I have achieved my life-long ambition. This turn makes me feel bullish. Of course it took some strategic planning to strike at the right moment. I am happy where I am now and don’t really need anything else this Christmas. Still, I would love you to drop in at my place. You cannot miss my Point Piper mansion as it is more palatial than Kirribilli House. Lucy plans to lay out a rich fare of cookies and a vat of the best scotch. Lots of love, Malcolm.”
The next letter carries the same Sydney postmark but looks a little less classy. It is written on some crumpled stationery.
“Dear Santa, can you please pick me up a strong slab of marble from Italy. It’s for a large coffee table. I need to replace a broken piece at my old office. I don’t recall how it broke, but it happened soon after I lost office…. Some wily journos and ABC mal-contents contend it was due to someone dancing on it after a drinking session. Dancing with delight on my exit? Anyway, having once intended to become a man of the cloth, I like a simple abode. For that reason I never moved into The Lodge, and yet was dislodged. Please bring me the marble piece and I will fix it. Despondent, Tony Abbott.”
Santa feels a bit sad but moves on to the next letter.
“Hi Santa, this is Bill. All I want for Christmas is a clean Bill – even though I’ve been cleared of charges by that rogue Royal Commission set up to shorten my odds of winning the next election. But with my current low rating, I am not even in a bull’s roar to turn the tide and get over the line. Knowing how popular you are with youngsters, I have asked for voting rights for kids of sixteen years to boost my chances, but there’s not much hope. Desperately seeking, BS.”
A letter from Queensland is next.
“Hi, I’m Kevin. I’m here to help you. Oops, that was 2007. Now I need your help Santa. After UNceremoniously being dumped by the Aussies, I live in New York with UNlimited urge to solve the world’s problems as the next UN Secretary General. UNattainable, say some. But now I am flushed with success in becoming the chair of Sanitation and Water for All, a global agency to achieve universal access to loos, drinking water and sewerage. This is just testing the water in my UNrelenting pursuit of the UN job. Please tell every country you visit to vote for me. I’ve gotta zip, KRudd.”
Next, a letter from someone who looks like he’s a clone of Claus, but with a much less bushy beard.
“In the past two years I have travelled to so many countries I have lost count. Away from the local scene far too often. With the gloss coming off some of my yojanas, I am trying to beef up my popularity at home, but unfortunately a few hot heads have spoiled the party clamouring for a ban on beef. Besides, that Bihar’s bogeyman Lalu has now dulled my lustre on the cusp of my London visit. I need my mojo back, Santa Bhai. Pranam, Narendra Modi.”
Where does one get mojo, Santa asks himself. Hmm, I could tell Mr Modi to ‘Make in India’…
Oh, this one’s from the US.
“Hi buddy, my Republican rivals say Americans are taking a gamble with me, but I made my millions from my Atlantic City casino, Taj Mahal. I don’t mind blowing my own Trump-et. If elected President, I will make the White House the biggest casino and yank millions for every Yankee. To do that, I need first to send millions of Latino illegal migrants back home. So, Santa, send me some super jumbo planes. Also thousands of kilometres of fence to put up at the Mexican border to stop those Hispanics. And thousands of pink slips to sack the Indians who have taken the jobs from our people. Donald (not the duck) Trump.”
Lucky this next one has English translation attached.
“Ni hao, Santa. Today we have become the world’s workshop. We did this by pinching manufacturing jobs from every country. Maybe that’s what is causing them to buy less of our goods leading to the recent slowdown, but we have plans to rekindle our economy. We have aborted (oops!) the one-child policy so there will be millions of new babies and demand for everything will go up, especially milk formula. Oz has now limited the number of cans our Chinese visitors can buy. So bring in plane loads of them. To help you land conveniently, we have built artificial islands. Neighbouring nations do complain, but they can go and jump in the sea. Beijing boss Xi Jinping.”
News of more new babies makes me happy, but new islands don’t augur well for peace and goodwill, the very spirit of Christmas, worries Santa.
Many more letters to go through, but now it is time to feed Rudolph his dinner.