His face drooped like Eeyore’s on a bad day, and he felt as miserable as a child who’d been missed on Christmas Eve. What was he to do? He picked up the letter in his chubby, pink fingers and sighed as he read it again.

 Dear Santa,

I wanted to give you a present this year, but I don’t have much money, so I’ve decided to give you some advice instead. You’re a great guy, so I hope you won’t be offended. I just want to help.

You have a weight problem, it’s as simple as that. It just isn’t cool to be overweight these days, it’s just not healthy. Okay, I know you’re pretty old, and you grew up in different times, but that’s not an excuse any more. You’ve got to trim down a little.

Chimneys are not what they used to be, you know, they’re not so big these days. It wouldn’t be a good look if you got stuck in someone’s chimney Christmas Eve and couldn’t deliver all the little kid’s prezzies.

Downsizing isn’t too difficult if you use a bit of common sense. First of all there’s the matter of beer and cookies, or even milk and cookies. How many kids do you deliver to? I hate to think, but my Maths tells me that if you drink a glass of beer or milk at every house and eat a cookie as well, that’s a humungous amount of calories. And, thinking of all those beers, maybe if you drank less you’d stop kissing so many mothers. Kissing isn’t good for you, you know – it spreads germs.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you got some exercise as well, but you don’t. You leave all the physical work to the elves, and Rudolph and his team.

To help you lose weight I’d love to give you a gym membership, but that’s way too expensive for me. I thought about lending you my Dad’s, as he hasn’t been to the gym for ages, but I don’t think he’d be too pleased to find he was paying for your downsize when he doesn’t have time to think about his own.

I’m sure if you look on the internet you’ll be able to find a good gym at the North Pole, or somewhere close by. They’ll have you fit and trim in no time.