Being Father Christmas
16 December 1994 - BEING FATHER CHRISTMAS
A kid came into my grotto last night and asked why my beard was covered in syrup.
I explained that I'd been chewing a bud, and the sap had burst out.
He began to wail, so I squirted ink at his mother. The manager, Mr Hons Pons, whacked me with a silver crow.
17 December 1994 - BEING FATHER CHRISTMAS
I was painting an elf on my grotto wall last night, when The Shamen ran in and beat me to the ground with their rifle butts.
After a minute of this treatment, I got up and thanked them.
You see - they were trying to knock a salmon off my spine before I was poisoned.