No.215

Do you have any idea what it’s like to have everyone say that you don’t exist? That you’re fat? That you’re lazy? That you only work for one night a year? I do, and it hurts. All I ever wanted to do was sprinkle a little joy into a few lives. Nothing too drastic, just give them Jeremy Clarkson’s new book or treat them to a Lynx body-wash gift-set. I know I wasn’t going to change the world, but I certainly wasn’t doing anyone any harm. I think the straw that broke this reindeer’s back was those Coca Cola adverts. Don’t get me wrong; I like a cool, refreshing carbonated soft drink as much as the next gift-giving Saint, but who was that guy they got to play me? Since when did I look like a white-haired Brian Blessed? Do you think I could deliver, high-quality, well-thought out presents to over seven billion people if I could barely fit through the post-office door? For a while I hid away. I wore sunglasses. I was ordained as a monk. I bought a Segway. But that’s just wasn’t me. My counsellor says it’s important to be yourself, and I try, I really do. It’s just hard to be yourself when you can’t even say your real name without people thinking you’re some sort of wise-guy trying to crack a joke. And mince pies? Please… does no one know that I’m allergic to raisins?