Dear Santa, or San Tec L'Aus, as some seem to call you,
Basil Baxter Loves You.
It has come to Basil Baxter's (who Loves You) attention that you are a powerful Ninja. It is also clearly apparent that you have access to a comprehensive intelligence network which monitors and records all deeds "naughty and nice" of all people on the planet Earth. Obviously it is in Basil Baxter's (who Loves You) interest if this state of affairs ceases to exist. Basil Baxter (who Loves You) will address this issue further on in this letter.
First and foremost, Basil Baxter (who Loves You) wishes to address some personal grievances. Basil Baxter (who Loves You) has noted with mounting displeasure that, despite claims to the contrary by your extensive PR department, you apparently do not, in fact, read all letters sent to you. If you did, then you surely would have noted Basil Baxter's (who Loves You) request for 10 pounds of Semtex, thirty cases of .22 LR rounds for the sniper rifle (exact specs detailed in the addendum) and a Churchill Mark 7 tank, battle ready, obviously. Since these gifts are, as of yet, unforthcoming, Basil Baxter (who Loves You) is forced to conclude that your PR department lies. It is not nice to lie.
Your previous failure notwithstanding, Basil Baxter (who Loves You) patiently waited for Christmas to come along again the following year. Basil Baxter (who Loves You), now allowing for a 10% fallout rate with your internal postal service, sent X letters, where X was derived by the following sum: (A = number of people celebrating Christmas / 100 * 11). To save space on this page, Basil Baxter (who Loves You) will refrain from disclosing X, but it was a sizeable amount. Yet still, no 10 pounds of Semtex, thirty cases of .22 LR rounds for the sniper rifle (exact specs detailed in the addendum) and a Churchill Mark 7 tank, battle ready, obviously, were forthcoming.
Disgruntled yet still hopeful, Basil Baxter (who Loves You) waited yet another year. This time Basil Baxter (who Loves You) sent X (adjusted for increases in world population) letters, X number of E-mails through several websites and on-line services boasting a direct line of communication with you, and hired a skywriter to write the request for 10 pounds of Semtex, thirty cases of .22 LR rounds for the sniper rifle (exact specs detailed in the addendum) and a Churchill Mark 7 tank, battle ready, obviously, in the sky over the North Pole where it is said you hold residence. Yet, unsurprisingly at this point, 10 pounds of Semtex, thirty cases of .22 LR rounds for the sniper rifle (exact specs detailed in the addendum) and a Churchill Mark 7 tank, battle ready, obviously, failed to materialize in Basil Baxter?s (who Loves You) stocking. Basil Baxter (who Loves You) did find some polite gentlemen on Basil Baxter's (who Loves You) doorstep one morning, wishing to discuss Basil Baxter's attempts to reach you, and the legal implications thereof, as well as seriously enquire as to the nature of Basil Baxter's interest in, and they quoted, 10 pounds of Semtex, thirty cases of .22 LR rounds for the sniper rifle (exact specs detailed in the addendum) and a Churchill Mark 7 tank, battle ready, obviously. They are now interred behind the shed that Basil Baxter (who Loves You) had built to house the, alas still absent, tank. This year, Basil Baxter (who Loves You) has given up on ever receiving the 10 pounds of Semtex, thirty cases of .22 LR rounds for the sniper rifle (exact specs detailed in the addendum) and a Churchill Mark 7 tank, battle ready, obviously. Since you have been kind enough to read this letter, Basil Baxter (who Loves You) wishes to inform you that the paper which you are holding at this very moment has been laced with VX, a powerful nerve agent. You will die within minutes. As for your intelligence network; Who cares. You are dead.
Thank you for your time.
Basil Baxter Loves You.
Metadata: