Dear Santa,

I hope you are fit and well and ready for the annual trip to Ireland. The economy has picked up a fair bit here, so we’ve all high expectations of decent presents from you. A black banana and a hairy peach are no longer good enough for the youngest in the family.

But before I write you a short list, I need to clear up a few housekeeping issues first. Snow has become a bad word here because we had the beast from the east last March and that sickened everybody with the white stuff, for all time. That awful song Let it Snow this Christmas has been banned and replaced by Let it Shine. You see, summer 2018 gave us the first real taste of sunshine in about 50 years and we’re still singing about it now.

As a matter of fact, the snow nearly destroyed the sheep farmers and the thought of more would send them to the bottle.

Anyhow, because of global warming – not that we’re worried about it – snow is very unlikely, so it’s high time you got rid of the reindeers/sleigh combination and moved into the 21st century with a pair of ex-US military Apache helicopters. Trump might lend you a couple provided none of your toys are made in China.

I suggest you load up the scrawny Rudolph and Rosemary into the chopper and Goodman’s ABP will pay you the same price as canner cows (about a euro per kilo).

I checked with Goodman and he said he’ll stand on, provided they’re under 30 years old, one owner and TB-tested. This is important as farmers are sure the feckin’ reindeers are spreading the TB.

And, while I’m at it, please give up this auld lark of coming down the chimney because most of us have little stoves now and Fiona Muldoon in FBD said she won’t insure us for you flutin’ around on the roof in the middle of the night. We’ll leave the door open for you.

If the house has already been raided before you arrive, you better be quiet or there’ll be two smoking barrels sticking out the bedroom window. If you see any suspicious vans moving around in the dead of night, open fire from the Apaches. You’ll be unlikely to see the Garda helicopter because they’re like the HSE and in total shutdown for Christmas. Breathalysing is a desktop job now.

Anyhow, I better give you a bit of a list from the family. Mrs P was good this year and I know she’d like a silk dressing gown to shimmy around the house at bedtime. I’d be delighted if you could do this because it’d save me the embarrassment of such shopping.

Dr Max was busy in Boortmalt this year trying to keep the Irish Grain Growers happy. A case of Ballykilcavan craft beer would be appreciated.

Rach and Tory and Alison – they’re tricky – maybe keep it simple with vouchers from Topshop.

Though I’d be grateful if you could line up fellows for them – nice, good-looking, well-educated lads with land and mother-in-law to-be already locked away securely in a far-off nursing home.

Finally, Santa, that only leaves me and Holly the Jack Russell. Please don’t bring Holly a squeaky and furry JML dog’s toy, as she’ll spend Christmas Day tearing it to bits and won’t rest until she’s the squeaky heart torn out and totally silenced.

As for me, Santa, I’d like a pair of Joseph Cheaney dealer boots from farm-wardrobe.com. But bring an invoice with you, Santa, as I want to get the VAT back.

Happy Christmas to you.

– Gerald