Speaker Juan Watterson proved a big hit when he read his festive poem at Port St Mary Commissioners’s Celebration of Christmas. He has agreed to share it with our readers:

In the far North of Lapland, in a land full of snow

Father Christmas was locked down with nowhere to go

It was hard to be jolly and do all his tasks

With elves six feet apart and all wearing masks

"This won’t do" said Santa and set out to see

If he could find somewhere else to live, Covid free

Meanwhile, in Douglas, we’ve a big fiscal hole

and eight hundred people still stuck on the dole

So our Enterprise Minister set out with a smile

To attract some new business to our beautiful Isle

Some multinational Lol, just use your nouse

Ideally they’ll fit in Manxonia House

So with revenues down and firms on the brink

Locate Isle of Man landed one Santa Inc.

We’re all at a loss as to how they made contact

David Ashford, unfortunately, shredded the contract

The move was enormous. For Santa ’twas hell

Two weeks with the wife in the Comis Hotel

Elves are key workers, which made him less snappy

With a few Mooinjey Veggey to keep work permits happy

With Data Protection they had to check twice

The processing consent for both naughty and nice

The equalities officer was doing her nut

On adjustments for workers all under three foot

He’d soon got his presents, his reindeer, his sledge,

But then came the Post Office Chair - Julie Edge

Santa said he got letters, a billion or two

But Julie thought maybe an email would do

"The posties", she said, "would all go beserk"

They just couldn’t cope with that volume of work

"And these big manufacturers never will learn

Who’s going to handle all the returns?"

Santa stopped and he sighed, "Well, at least I can bank?"

Julie gave him a look, and his heart quickly sank

"Now look here Father Christmas, have you not read our plan?

"We’re closing post offices as fast as we can

"You want postage and banking, I find this quite wearing

"For all that you’ll soon have to go to Port Erin

"What’s your game Santa, do you want us to fail?

"We’re here to make money, not handle the mail!"

Santa was angry, his face turned bright red

Oh blow it, he cried, I’ll use Hermes instead

But all was soon sorted and nothing went wrong

His production line’s under the length of the Prom

He was soon down the Albert and full of good cheer

With presents enough for another big year

So this Christmas Eve as you’re snuggled in bed

As visions of presents dance through your heads

There’s now one more thing, for which we must give thanks

We can tell all the world that Santa’s now Manx