The Ghost of Christmas presents....

Dearest Father Christmas, have you had a pleasant year?
You must be getting busy now that time is nearly here
I thought I'd write a letter (which I never norm'ly do)
In the hope that you can help me out and make my dreams come true
I don't want to sound ungrateful for your efforts all these years
But your choice of pressies sometimes left me fighting off the tears.
So this year, Father Christmas, when you pick the gift for me,
Can you please leave something vaguely useful underneath my tree?
So for example Santa Claus, I'll take the chance to warn
That I'd never wear an aftershave named Thrust or Ram or Horn
And when I see, beneath the tree, a shiny ribboned box
I don't expect the contents to be pink and yellow socks.
Or a car wash kit with chamois, wax and stuff to make it glisten,
And what the hell's with talcum powder? Don't you ever listen?
A pair of pants. That's super, thanks I'll nip upstairs and try 'em
(If I'd needed sodding underpants, don't you think I'd buy 'em?)
And another thing now Santa, could you maybe tell me why
You think I'd make a good impression in a Homer Simpson tie?
Or be pleased with cufflinks, handkerchiefs: why ever did you reckon
I was after twenty razor blades as used by David Beckham?
I know you know that JD is my favourite of tipples
Yet my stocking seems to hold a box of "Mini Chocolate Nipples".
And from Waterstones, a little something someone thought was funny:
"The little book of female wisdom." (Waste of fucking money...)
So this year Father Christmas, I'll attempt to make it clear.
I'll accept a crate of Kronenburg (or other premium beer)
A pack of fags would go down well and would avoid my scorn
But Santa, if you're still not sure, just give me loads of porn!

H/T DML