Comedians' Letters: Dear Santa...

Christmas is coming, and we've asked some stars of the Scottish comedy scene to tell us what they're hoping to find in their stockings

Feature | 07 Dec 2011

Vladimir McTavish

Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year, can I have a robot which I can programme to do all the jobs I do not like doing, e.g. writing letters?

Can the robot have a monkey to do all the jobs that the robot does not like doing?

Can I also have another robot which can be programmed to train the monkey to do all these jobs as the first robot is going to be far too busy dealing with my correspondence to have any time to spend training monkeys?

Thank you.  Merry Xmas,

Jo Caulfield

Dear Santa,

This December Michael Winner has a new book out – guess what I do NOT want for Christmas? If Winner’s punchable face goes anywhere near my stocking I will hunt you down and kill you. Even if you don’t exist.

What do I want? Well, I’d quite like a stuffed reindeer’s head to hang above my fireplace. Be honest, do you really need Dancer, Prancer, Vixen and all the others? Come on, give me Rudolph’s carcass. 

I’d also like World Peace, an end to all wars and an iPad2. If that’s too much I’ll just take the iPad2.

Thank you.


Jo x

Martin Mor

Dear Santa,

Sorry to be bothering you at what must be one of your busiest times of year (Christmas). I hope this is not a cheeky question; do you dye your whiskers? It is difficult to find any reliable beard related information. I Googled 'beards' but just got a lot of specialist sites dedicated to “Bears”. I’m sure I saw your photo on The leather mask disguised you, but I spotted a little red nose poking out. How are the reindeers? Any beard grooming tips gratefully received.

Season's greetings,

Dee Custance

Dear Santa,

I didn’t watch out, I cry like I just shagged Frankie Cocozza and frown like a Halloween mask of Theresa May left to melt on a radiator.  If you find me asleep it would be a fucking holy baby Jesus miracle because I’ve not slept since 2009.  Santa… I have clinical depression. Please may I have a prescription for temazepam, a cumacumacuma2000 with extra batteries.  And a rope. 

Dee, Aged 30
PS, if your reindeers shit on my roof again, Rudolph’s arse will be my Christmas lunch. 

Siân Bevan

Dear Santa, 

I’m really very sorry that I kept telling people I don’t believe in you. I was just trying to be one of those cool atheists (asantaists?) who make Frank Skinner all cross, when I realised that I should stop trying to be cool and start hedging my bets. I definitely believe in you, probably. In fact, are you God? I hope not, because then I’d have to send this letter with my eyes shut and hands pressed together and ask for something like world peace. I’d actually like a very tiny pony but one that’s tiny because it’s cute, not because it has a horrible disease.

Thank you! (If you don’t exist, please could you pass this on to Jimmy Savile?) 

Siân Elizabeth Bevan, aged 29 and 3 quarters. 

Michael Redmond

Dear Santa,
Since I don’t believe in you anymore, it would be ridiculous to ask you for some presents for myself. However, here is a list of presents which I would like you to deliver to other people:
DAVID CAMERON (Politician): Michael Jackson’s former doctor, Conrad Murray, to advise him on daily intake of medicine for insomnia.
JOHN TERRY (Footballer): A time machine to transport him back in time to South Africa in the days of Apartheid where he might find some soulmates.
JEREMY CLARKSON ( ? ) A talking, blow-up version of himself so he’ll realise how unbearably irritating he is.

Your pal,


I’ve been a very good boy this year. Certainly in relative terms to Colonel Gaddafi, President Assad of Syria, and Rupert Murdoch. For Christmas, I would like:
– Gym membership for my cat. A few reps on the ab-cruncher would burn off some of the excess energy currently being put to use throwing all my worldly possessions from the highest shelves she can reach.
– An agent. Being a professional comedian and writer, I’m only really comfortable being a cunt onstage or on Microsoft Word. I really need somebody to be a cunt on the phone for me.
– Money to travel round Slovakia for a fortnight next year with a mate.The missus is Slovakian… but unfortunately that means she has as much interest in travelling around Slovakia as I have in travelling around Scotland.

I believe in you!

Billy Kirkwood

Hey Mofo

Here’s my 5 strong Christmas wish list for 2011

1 – Please stop people using LOL, OMG or ROFL in real life

2 – Kick Piers Morgan in the face

3 – Make it so all midgets now have to be referred to as Shetland people

4 – Put pens in all toilet stalls so people don’t write in poo

5 – Have Chuck Norris fight the Ultimate Warrior for the championship of the universe

Get a couple of these done and we can put that Sega Master System incident of 1986 behind us.

Your Friend in time,

Keir McAllister

To be honest with you I hesitated in writing this letter because I’m still a bit pissed off about last year’s 'slanket' debacle. If I wanted to look like a wizard, I’d have grown a beard. As a result, I’m not that bothered about a gift this year to be honest, because I already celebrated Christmas this year when I watched Murdoch get that pie in his face, live on telly and for a couple of seconds I thought he might have been stabbed.

I will give you a pressie though, in the form of some advice. Ditch that fucking Slade song. It’s getting beyond a joke. If you had never heard of Christmas before and your first hearing about it was Noddy Holder rasping it at you through a shopping centre tannoy system – you’d be forgiven for thinking Christmas was a rape festival run by an evil Tom Waits with throat cancer. Do that and I’ll forget about the “slanket”.


Ro Campbell

Dear Santa,

I just read your Wikipedia page and it turns out you were born in Greece, so I'm assuming everyone's presents are currently sitting in the window of a pawn shop somewhere, which for many children in Scotland would just be cutting out the middle man anyway. I think in these times of massive upheaval and protest it is not long before the people see you as an instrument of the totalitarian global elite's campaign to distract us from all the economic and political shitstorms they have been creating, by encouraging us to buy all the crap they manafacture. Well we've had enough. If you were really genuine about spreading joy, you'd have given healthcare to African children and AIDS to George Bush. Well the party's over fat man, we're on our way to Occupy Lapland.

Burn in hell,