I watch the sleigh lift off, as it has every year for two millenia.
It never gets old.
As it gains height, and fades into just another glowing star in the festive sky, I wonder – not for the first time – what He did to deserve this job. I can still remember my own sentencing, all those centuries ago. 500 years of hard labour, and an embarrasing uniform.
I’ll be eligible for parole in 2100, but poor Nick still has a long way to travel.
I don’t know whose toes he trod on with those oversized boots of his, but it must have been someone important.
Oh well, breaks over. Only 32850 days left – but who’s counting.
Don't say I didn't warn you.