Dear Santa,

I’m on to you. This little scam of yours isn’t going to fly this year. Just because you leave a bunch of presents under my tree (crappy presents at that) doesn’t mean you can take whatever the hell you want! I know it was you that stole my Blackberry and helped yourself to my selection of wine. And I’m going to want those panties back if only to burn them! What the hell is wrong with you!?

You can pretend to be a saint all you want but you ain’t getting down my chimney this year. And if you try it you’ll fry your ass on the fire. That’s right! I’m not putting it out, I’m going to let it burn all night. Don’t even think about coming in the windows either. The dogs have some seriously bad-ass police training and they’ll rip you a new one.

I hope your reindeer get foot and mouth!

Yours insincerely,

Grace.