To: Santa Claus, Re: Retirement, Cc: the Elves.

Dear Santa.

Thanks for coming. I think it's about time you and I had this chat.

I'll be blunt: I have gone ahead and bought the iPad. I didn't even wait till Christmas to do it, I didn't wrap it, and I started playing with it straight away. Santa, honey, let's be honest here: I've been asking you for apple goods for years now. And I've been good. Certainly as good as some people who have prettier computers than I do.

So yes, I bought it. If you want to help you can get me some accessories. But I'll not be counting on you for that either. My husband's on to it and he's a hell of a lot more reliable.

Santa: I think you need to stop. You can't handle the job anymore. Your memory's not what it used to be, you probably don't even know what timezone I'm in, and I'm pretty damn sure you don't know how to use the internet (you know, the links I emailed you to the things I wanted? You click on them and order online).

I know you're supposed to be all about the children these days. But, Santa, sweetie, honestly? I was in Marks and Sparks the other day, choosing something for a baby girl. All the stuff there was either pink and labelled 'Mummy's little princess' or blue with 'Mummy's little monster'. Do your elves make that stuff? Haven't you read Cordelia Fine yet? Haven't you cottoned on to gender equality? Are you trying to undermine everything we teach our children? And to be honest, Santa, they don't really believe in you anymore. My daughter is angling for some electronic goods this year, so given your track record, it's probably best she doesn't even ask you, and my son's writing lists for us, not you: that's how little he trusts you.

Look here, Santa, calm down a bit. All I'm suggesting is that you take your long overdue retirement. I'm sure the elves will look after you. And look, you're not completely out of the picture, we still sing the songs. But I'm beginning to think that even that is a bit out of order: all the threats 'You'd better watch out', the blackmail, and the really dodgy stuff – snogging the kiddies' mums, watching us while we sleep. Santa: get the fuck out of my bedroom, now!

Santa, I don't know what happened to you. I used to think you were a sweet old guy with too much time and money on his hands that parents could fob off the job of getting prezzies for their kids on to. Now I'm concerned.

Listen Santa, no one is saying you're redundant. Well. I mean there's lot of stuff you can get us. Like world peace. I'm sure lots of people have been asking for that and you just haven't had time to get round to it because of looking around for all these toys. And better weather. Why don't you get on to that? The kids would appreciate a bit of snow on Christmas day, I'm sure, and I wouldn't mind if that bloody rain stopped.

Look Santa, there's really no need to get upset. We all get old – I didn't make the rules. If I had, I'd have probably put a woman in charge by now, anyway. Ever heard of the glass ceiling? You've had a good run, Santa, but you can't blame us for wanting a bit of change in the way we run Christmas. Santa, really, you're going to bring on a heart attack if you go on that way. It wouldn't hurt to lose a bit of weight, by the way. Santa: PUT THE GUN DOWN. That's right, give it to me. Ok, look, you can bring us gifts just this time. We've put our tree on the balcony by the way. We got a cat, he eats the ornaments. Well, you'd know that if you'd been paying a bit more attention. Anyway, just dump the stuff under the tree and go. What do I want? Oh, just the usual. More computers, books, that kind of shit. You know what I like Santa. You shouldn't have to ask year after year- you've known me since I was this high. Ok, look, fine. Just bring me a scarf. Yeah, sure, I'll wear it. Go, now. Yes you can have your gun back. But mind you don't play with it when you're near children.