I've been good, Santa . . . ish

Dear Santa Claus,
This is Modern Maiden - you may remember me from such blogs as Keeping An Eye Out For The Creeps and Time To Speak Up On Same-sex Marriage.

After the disappointment I suffered last Christmas when the winning Lotto ticket I asked for was replaced with a lump of coal in a Pink Floyd coffee mug, I have tried my hardest to be good this year.

Santa, the thing is, being good is difficult, and while I may have had a few lapses, I can assure you I was never told off by my mummy, nor was I put in the naughty corner (although I sure wish I had been.)

Seeing as I am about to ask you for gifts I think it's only fair I admit all of my wrongdoings since last Christmas. Perhaps if I repent my sins and say a Hail Mary I may still get treats.

I tell you what Santa, I'll even clean the chimney so you don't get covered in soot, and I'll leave a glass of brandy on the mantelpiece for you.

It was a busy year of naughtiness for me, but I promise you no one was hurt in the making of my fun.

Let's start with Boxing Day 2011. It was a nice sunny day. I drank all of my Christmas wine and emptied three boxes of scorched almonds before 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

Alas, I fell into a Merlot-induced coma on the lawn, missing dinner with my grandparents. My poor nana and granddad had to eat all of the Christmas leftovers by themselves.

Santa, this was not good for their cholesterol and I felt absolutely terrible when they were put on more medication in the New Year.
But, Mr Claus, I have made a real effort since then to wait until I get to my grandparents' house before I start drinking. Besides, their lawn has fewer prickles, which makes drunken naps much more comfortable.

Fast forward a week to New Year's Eve and thus begins my second confession.

St Nick, I almost started 2012 in jail.

You see, I had lost my ID and although I was 25 at the time, I knew I was looking youthful and gorgeous in my black lace dress, and thus the doormen in town were bound to ask for my non-existent ID.
What's a girl who wants to go out for a cocktail on New Year's Eve meant to do? There was no other option, and in fact I didn't give it a second thought. I borrowed a friend's ID.

After all Santa, it's not really like I was lying. I was old enough to be drinking; in fact I was the same age as the friend who gave  me her ID. And she had the same colour eyes as me.

As I tried to trot into the bar on my stunning new heels I'd bought myself for Christmas, the doorman, as foretold, asked for my ID. It wasn't long before he'd used his walkie-talkie to radio Constable Drop Dead Sexy to assess the ''fake ID''.

Constable DDS arrived and was to die for. Although I was adamant I had not broken the law, my friend and I really would not have minded if he pulled out his handcuffs.

In the end he sent me home (to my house) and kept the fake ID. Although I must admit I did smile when he added he wanted to see me in his office on Monday.

By the way, Father Christmas, you have never seen a girl at her prettiest until she has to pop to the police station on Monday to discuss what she did in the weekend.

Well, I called it pretty, but my Mother did tell me I looked like a ''high class prostitute''.

Luckily, I had been watching Secret Diary of a Call Girl and could totally take ''high class prostitute'' as a compliment.

My next sin is almost delicious. Three weeks into January I met a lovely ... no, wait. I can't tell you that one. Mrs Claus would be jealous.

Well, in that case I must confess, I found this incredibly interesting website. It turns out there is a market for this really weird type of ... hmmm, actually, the elves would probably take offense to that.
St Nick, I need a new bed, because last week ...
On second thoughts Santa, don't worry about it. I'll but my own damn iPhone.

Love from Modern Maiden.

Merry Christmas all! Have a safe and happy holiday and enjoy your time with family and friends. Remember; don't do anything I wouldn't do.