This year’s rules are as follows – (taken from Ms. Hill’s blog)
Rockin’ around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop,
Santa was dancing merrily and could not seem to stop.
Was it due to that glass of sherry under every single tree?
Or was it because all the drink had made him desperate for a pee?
Santa excused himself and set off at a jog,
Up the stairs like a mountain goat in order to find the bog.
Mrs Claus was in the bathroom having a nice long bath,
She’d locked the door and Santa didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.
He yelled out in distress as Mrs Claus began to sing,
She’d turned up the radio, and she couldn’t hear a thing.
Santa hopped from foot to foot, wondering what to do,
Then he realised he’d eaten a dodgy mince pie,
And now he needed a poo.
The pie churned around and around in his tummy,
When it met up with the sherry it made him feel a little bit funny.
He knew that if the door stayed closed he’d pebbledash the wall,
And there’d be sherry, pie and Christmas pud all along the hall.
Just at that moment Mrs Claus appeared and Santa made a dash,
Towards the open bathroom door and got there quick as a flash.
“I shouldn’t come in here for a while” he called out with a grin,
“Leave it half an hour, and then send the canary in.”
Mrs Claus wrinkled her nose and said without good cheer,
“No more mince pies and sherry for you; you’re on a diet. Happy New Year!”