Deborah Ross: Santa in cyberspace

Dear children everywhere (plus, of course, all those who are somewhere else), Welcome! I am Father Christmas. I am good and kind-hearted and thoughtful and all that, so if you've ever tried to contact me and I haven't replied, it's only because I'm a very busy man. Oh, yes, I'm always madly rushing about, except when I'm having my mid-morning and afternoon snoozes. But your questions! They keep coming and coming and coming! Especially by e-mail. I get billions of e-mails. Sorry, but I can't possibly keep up with them all, what with having to fit in my mid-morning and afternoon snoozes and everything. So, gathered here is a collection of your most frequently asked questions, plus some other things I've thrown in, just for good measure. I hope you'll find it jolly interesting. I suspect you will because, even if I say so myself, I'm a jolly interesting sort of fellow. Much love and a great deal of ho-ho-ho-ing,

FATHER CHRISTMAS

PS Wherever possible, I like to squeeze in an early-evening nap, too.

From: Sophie

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Rudolph

I am seven years, three weeks, two days and 10 minutes old. What I want to know is, do you really have a reindeer called Rudolph?

From: Father Christmas

To: Sophie

Subject: Re: Rudolph

No, I don't actually. His real name is Rudolphsky Theodopholus Frosty-Wosty Toenail Lamb Chop. But I call him Rudolph. Once, I tried calling him Rude for short. "He's Rude," I would say to people when we were invited for tea. "Well, if he's Rude," they would say, "then we don't want him in our house. He'll eat with his mouth open, burp crumbs everywhere, and sloosh jelly between his teeth before spitting it back out on to the spoon."

From: Amelia Alice

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Why don't you wake me?

How come I never wake up when you creep into my bedroom?

From: Father Christmas

To: Amelia Alice

Subject: Re: Why don't you wake me?

For many years, dear, I attended the Lapland School of Ballet and Tiptoeing and Generally Going About Things Quietly, which is run by the world-famous Madame de la Beautification Whispery-Feet. She was quite strict. "Father Christmas," she would say, "unless you concentrate on your tiptoeing and general going about things quietly, I shall have no alternative but to keep you in at playtime."

From: Jonah

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Toys

Where do you get all the toys from?

From: Father Christmas

To: Jonah

Subject: Re: Toys

We make some in the workshop, of course, but mostly I get them from the Lapland Superstore – which gives me a good discount with my Father Christmas Clubcard.

From: Mr Hargreaves, Manager, Lapland Superstore

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Unwanted stock

Please let me have your views on the following items that, each year, prove almost impossible to shift: shampoo that stings; orange juice with bits in; itchy jumpers; flashcards; flannels; nail-clippers; scratchy coats with velvet collars; SATs practice papers; spinach; dental appointments; and ghastly old relatives who say: "We didn't have telly in our day. We made our own entertainment." They are taking up valuable warehouse space. Can I ditch them?

From: Father Christmas

To: Mr Hargreaves, Manager, Lapland Superstore

Subject: Re: Unwanted stock

I suppose so, even though it breaks my heart. OK, ghastly old relatives are trying, with their yucky wet kisses, but sometimes they give you money on your birthday, which shouldn't be sniffed at!

From: Henry Bootington-Smythe-Brocklebean

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Scratchy coat with velvet collar

My name is Henry Bootington-Smythe-Brocklebean. No one calls me anything for short because my mother says it's common. My father does something very important in a big bank. My mother does something very important called "going out to lunch". She says that I should ask you for a scratchy coat with velvet collar for Christmas. It'll be most suitable for boarding school. Must go now to feed my pony.

To: Mr Hargreaves, Manager, Lapland Superstore

From: Father Christmas

Subject: Urgent, Urgent, Urgent!

Hang on to the scratchy coats with velvet collars!

To: Henry Bootington-Smythe-Brocklebean

From: Father Christmas

Subject: Re: Scratchy coat with velvet collar

Old chap, of course you can have a scratchy coat with velvet collar. You'll look spiffing in it, I'm sure. Now, before it's too late, can I also interest you in a flannel and some flashcards?

From: Jonah

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Sleigh

How do you fit so many presents on the sleigh?

From: Father Christmas

To: Jonah

Subject: Re: Sleigh

With a great deal of huffing, puffing, squeezing and shoving, until Rudolph loses his temper and says: "It's you. You take up too much space." Me? Stuff and nonsense! I have a most comely figure, much admired. Plus a titchy-witchy appetite, too. Yesterday afternoon, for example, after six bags of toffees, 12 crumpets, 16 jam doughnuts, 29 mince pies and a slice of chocolate cake, I almost didn't have room for any supper (which was my favourite: steak and kidney pudding, then Enoch's home-made trifle – I had to have 17 helpings so as not to hurt his feelings). Sometimes, Rudolph just doesn't know what he's on about.

From: Michael

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Beard

Why do you have the beard you have?

From: Father Christmas

To: Michael

Subject: Re: Beard

Because, if I didn't, I wouldn't be the Father Christmas I am.

From: Carlos

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Food

Every year, I leave out a mince pie and a glass of sherry for you. Is this OK, or is there something you would like better?

From: Father Christmas

To: Carlos

Subject: Re: Food

Mince pies and sherry do me very nicely, thank you. Just a carrot for Rudolph, though, who is always fretting about his figure and on this diet or that diet and asking: "Do my antlers look big in this woolly hat? Do they? Do they?" Luckily, with my comely figure (much admired) and titchy-witchy appetite, I don't have to worry about such things.

From: Harry

To: Father Christmas

Subject: What Jon wants

I am seven. I have an imaginary friend. He is called Jon. He is seven, too. Sometimes Jon crayons up the walls. My mum gets cross. "It wasn't me! It was Jon!" I tell her. I don't want much for myself for Christmas. I don't mind if you give my presents to very poor children. But Jon would like a PlayStation, a full-size jeep that really works (we saw one in Harrods) and a big horse called Silver. I tried to tell him he was being greedy, but he just won't listen to me. Jon can be like that sometimes.

From: Father Christmas

To: Harry

Subject: Re: What Jon wants

I like the sound of Jon, I must say. What a plucky little fellow! Of course he can have a PlayStation, a jeep (as seen in Harrods) and a big horse called Silver. The only thing is, they might have to be imaginary, too...

From: Daisy

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Marriage

Are you married?

From: Father Christmas

To: Daisy

Subject: Re: Marriage

No, I'm not married, but I think I've got a girlfriend. She's called Shirley and she's a school dinner-lady, which means she's a bit whiffy. She smells of stew and cabbage and chips and custard. On our first date, we went to the cinema and she said: "You may hold my hand, Father Christmas." I said: "I can't. I'm too busy holding my nose, you little stinker!" Strangely, she's yet to agree to a second date.

From: Jon, Harry's imaginary friend

To: Father Christmas

Subject: PlayStation, jeep and horse called Silver

Hello. This is not Harry here. This is Jon. Harry said I should tell you that I'm not that imaginary. So my Christmas presents shouldn't be that imaginary either. OK? Kind regards, Jon. Not Harry. (Who had nothing to do with this and who wants his presents to go to poor children.)

From: Father Christmas

To: Jon, Harry's imaginary friend

Subject: Re: PlayStation, jeep and horse called Silver

Jon, do you think I'm made of money? Well, I'm not. I'm made of a big beard and a big red suit and the big snowproof boots Enoch ties for me. Frankly, I think, you'd do well to follow Harry's example. What a selfless boy he is! Three cheers for Harry!

From: Otis Joseph Long

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Time off

What do you do the rest of the year?

From: Father Christmas

To: Otis Joseph Long

Subject: Re: Time off

Oh, I get it. You think that I just lie about between snoozes while Enoch brings me chocolate biscuits and a nice cup of tea (two sugars). Well, you're right! Smashing job, this. Hope you get a job like this when you're older. Except that you won't, because I've got it. Sorry, but that's life and life, sometimes, can be very hard.

From: Jane

To: Father Christmas

Subject: All I want for Christmas

I am a very good girl. I don't practise Chinese burns on my little sister that often. Last week, I only practised them on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I would like 459 Barbies and maybe a book on Chinese burns, if there is one. I don't want a saddlebag. My little sister won't agree to be my slave for a week, so I've decided to hang on to my old one.

From: Father Christmas

To: Jane

Subject: Re: All I want for Christmas

Now, why do you sound so familiar? I will try to bring you 459 Barbies, but only if you lay off the Chinese burns. Have you ever thought of ringing doorbells and running away? No one gets hurt. And it's just as much fun. But, whatever you do, don't tell Enoch I said so!

From: Robert

To: Father Christmas

Subject: Wrapping paper

Why do you always use the same wrapping paper as my mum?

From: Father Christmas

To: Robert

Subject: Re: Wrapping paper

Because your mother and I share the same excellent taste.

From: Nye Jones

To: Father Christmas

Subject: The big question

Are you truly there, Father Christmas?

From: Father Christmas

To: Nye Jones

Subject: Re: The big question

Yes. Of course. Sorry if this sounds rude, but are you quite right in the head? Or did your mummy drop you on it when you were a baby? Now, if you don't mind, I'm very busy and running late for my snooze.

'Are you there, Father Christmas?', by Deborah Ross, is published by Walker Books, priced £2.99