Dear Santa,
The jig is up.
This week I found out about your little friend from pre-Christian Alpine times, the Krampus, a hairy incubus with fangs, horns, and one of those scary, pointy, red tongues that hangs down to his chest. Apparently the two of you used to be quite chummy, making the rounds together at night and playing Good-Cop-Bad-Cop with credulous villagers.
I have often thought that leaving coal in the stockings of naughty children was a bit of a cop-out, but now I see it was all part of a giant cover up. Well played, Santa, well played.
I realise it is not completely your fault. In this age of positive thinking and free spirits, frightening small children with rusty chains, bells, and the threat of birchings* would be frowned upon by the PC Brigade.
So, now that I have uncovered your dirty little secret, I wonder if you could ask your friend, the Krampus, for a tiny favour.
There is a trio of urchins who terrorise my neighbourhood. The ring-leader cycles around on a bicycle that is far too small for him, and tends to wear oversized black clothing. He and his ape-like followers take great delight in vandalising public and private property, pushing over mailboxes and fences, and peeing on things that belong to other people.
If you could organise a little night-time visit for them from your horned friend, I would be most grateful.
Best regards,
Angie
P.S. I am still waiting for the My Little Pony you promised me in 1986.
* If there aren't any birches nearby, what does the Krampus use instead? I know "eucalyptusing" doesn't have quite the same ring.