Those bloody elves, hoppin’ around on the rooftops, comin’ over ‘ere thinking they can deliver presents down the bloody chimney. They should bugger off back to the North Pole and read up on central heating technology before they come over ‘ere shovin’ parcel down my flue. And that bloody Santa Claus, wot is he, ruddy European geezer innit? Don’t get me started. Dressed up in a red coat, comin’ over ‘ere… (shut it, Nigel, back in your box. Ed.)