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Friday, 3 December 2010

Santa's therapist writes to me

I dunno.  Not only do I get complaining letters from Santa himself but now his therapist has begun a correspondence with me.  (What a silly, silly, silly man .... does he know what he's letting himself in for?)


Dear Fran

I hope you don't mind me using your first name.  I do keep asking Santa what your surname is, but I am afraid that he has enough trouble saying 'F ...  F .. Fr .... Fra .... Fran' without falling to the ground in a stupor and screaming 'No!  No!  Don't let her near me!'  and I don't like to push him further.

I have been seeing Santa for a few years now.  Do you remember when you sent that first letter in the year 2002?  Well, it would have been that year when he called me and asked for an appointment.  When I say, 'he' called me, I mean one of his elves, for my first few visits to Santa had to take place at his own home, where he was tucked up in bed with a bright red blanket and several elves mopping his brow and feeding him thin broth.  At first, I have to admit, I was convinced he needed a doctor and not a therapist, because I couldn't imagine what would send a man into such a state of apoplexy if it weren't an illness.  But the elves assured me it had all been because of a letter, a rather long letter, sent by a lady with very high expectations and followed up by 49 phone calls, 733 texts and a visit from a hitman in a black coat and a low-brimmed hat.

News had got round that Santa was looking for a replacement, but Wikileaks had released Fran's letters on the Internet and all the possible candidates made a run for it. 


As you won't be surprised to hear, I was alarmed that any lady would have found all this harassment necessary just to persuade Santa to send her a copy of 'Eat Whole Cheesecakes but Look Fabulous' and an exercise DVD which only had exercises such as 'Lift Your Cup of Tea to your Lips' and 'Press the Buttons on your Mobile'.  It seems that no matter how many times he tried to tell you he did not stock these titles, you persisted.

This is why I am writing to you.  Santa recovered well that first year (although his three months in the asylum was a major setback to the running of his business and he had to put a deputy in charge, hence the complaints that year that Santa had never had antlers before and that his hooves woke the children up just as he was delivering the presents).  However, we all thought your letter had been a one-off - the requests of someone temporarily insane.  But since then, year after year, your letters have kept coming, and Santa's medication is not proving efficacious any more.  (We did at one point discover that this was because he kept dropping the pills into his beard and we thought we'd never get them out.  But we sorted this with a nit comb.)  Now, as well as frequent hysterical fits,  he has developed claustrophobia, which for someone whose living depends on squeezing an 18 stone frame down a narrow chimney, is not, as you will appreciate, that helpful.

May I, on Santa's behalf, ask you to desist from sending further letters and give him a small chance of a complete recovery?  As you will see below, all Santa's elves and reindeer have signed this letter, as they are the ones who suffer when Santa is acting particularly strangely.  (Let's just say his ho-ho-ho turns on some days into ha-ha-ha and it frightens the smallest elves and youngest reindeer.)

I do hope you will feel able to help.  I have enclosed my leaflet about the '10 Simple Steps to Freeing Yourself from Clooney Addiction' Programme, as Santa told me this might be useful to you.  Should you want to see a therapist, please do feel free to make an early appointment with any other therapist except me.

Yours in hope

Santa's therapist

13 comments:

  1. O Fran, I am so sorry. Some people seem to be afraid of any little thing. So what if you sent Santa a few letters and texts, and asking for a date with George Clooney is surely not asking for much, seeing that he is now quite old and grey.

    How about writing under an assumed name? I could lend you my postcode. If that date with George ever comes off as a consequence, can we go halves? Or have a threesome?

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  2. Shit Fran! You are a dude. Not only can you freak out Santa, but you can zone his therapist too! That is a very special skill indeed!

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  3. Over here, that therapist would be strung up for a series of egregious violations of patient privacy. As for your holiday requests, well why not? Isn't the consumer always in the right?

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  4. I like the idea of thin broth. Broth that makes you thin? Please send the recipe.

    I don't, however, like Friko's idea of "a threesome". Sounds much too racy for an English teacher's blog.

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  5. Santa's not doing his job properly which means my chance of having Keeley Hawes delivered to my door is seriously diminished. Sorry, Fran. I sympathise and all that but it's a dog eat dog world. I need Santa to do his job. Lay off him. Once I've got Keeley you can send him as many letters as you like.

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  6. Perhaps we could have a Clooney Addiction support group? There seem to be quite a few of us who need this therapy.

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  7. Seems as though Christmas could be disappointing, considering Santa's present state of mind!

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  8. Friko - I can see you're not a Clooneyite, as you have made two references now to his age and his grey hair. I may well have to blacklist you ...

    Annie - just wait till I start on the reindeer.

    Raining Acorns - put it this way, THIS consumer is always in the right.

    Isabelle - I have no idea what Friko means about threesomes. Aren't we all a bit old to be playing skipping games now? As for the broth that makes you thin, it's just water and .... er .... water. Very easy to make.

    Steve - I think we are about equal in our levels of delusion.

    Nana - yeah, my name is Fran and I'm a Clooneyholic. Great idea.

    Martin - Could you hear my groan from where you are?.....

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  9. Send the letter back with the C crossed off from the last para - ('10 Simple Steps to Freeing Yourself from Clooney Addiction')and say you can provide him with this booklet = '10 Simple Steps to Freeing Yourself from Looney Addiction' - highlight this and and tell the guy to 'get over himself' (I'm down with the young things - you can tell, can't you)- he's obviously addicted to you, if he's spending all that time writing such a long letter. I'm pausing at this point as this comment is getting quite long - am I addicted to you? Ha, ha, laughs off that idea - walks off laughing hysterically......

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  10. I can't help wondering where Santa, or his therapist, gets enough money to buy stamps needed to keep you supplies in handwritten correspondence? Or do the letters arrive wiithout stamps, thus incurring exhorbitant 'insufficient postage' charges before they are handed over to you...
    If either are using fraudulent expenses claims to defray costs, I suggest they look at our parliamentary system, and take note...

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  11. Only on this blog would I not bat an eyelid at mention of a nit comb!

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  12. Vintage Tea Time - that gave me an idea. I think I'll knock the AD off addiction and say I have 'Clooney Diction' and then every word I say I pronounce with the word Clooney before it clooneylike clooneythis. Clooneywhat clooneydo clooneyyou clooneyreckon? (Actually, don't answer that ...)

    Jinksy - Elves and reindeers deliver the letters, silly! (Tut.) What do you think they do between Christmasses?

    Christine - are you saying you EXPECT me to have lice?

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  13. Poor Santa :-( So if he doesn't turn up this year I know who to blame.

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