Do You Believe in the Clean-Arse Fairy?

I don't have children so I have never played the tooth-fairy and I have very rarely been Father Christmas. This year I went to a rented farmhouse for Christmas, it was preposterously over-full of knick-knacks, clutter, and my family. As Father Christmas I put money into stocking for my nieces and pseudo-nieces while they slept.

The only other time I have been Father Christmas was when I bought my mother a bicycle. I hid it in a friends of mine's garage so that it would be a surprise. On Christmas Eve I got absolutely wankered and then tried to quietly hide it under the tree. In fact I fell through the front door with the bike on my shoulder and we both clattered into the radiator.

This Christmas the farmhouse wasn't particularly well stocked with loo-roll. By the end of Christmas day we were already trading and consolidating our stocks. On Boxing day morning I went to the supermarket for supplies. As well as bread, milk and loo-roll I bought knickers and a top for my oldest niece who had been wearing the same clothes for 72 hours after she was separated from her luggage.

She appreciated the gift that I left by her bed while she slept, but as it contained loo-roll and knickers it did seem disturbingly arse-centric.

Richard "lace trim, fully lined gusset" B