When four of Santa’s elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Pre-Christmas pressure.
Then Mrs Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.
When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where.
Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.
Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drunk all the cider and hidden the liquor. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.
Just then the doorbell rang, and an irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.
The angel said very cheerfully, “Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn’t this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?”
And thus began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.
At Sunday church the local Vicar explains that he must move on to a larger congregation that will pay him more money.
There is a hush within the congregation.
No one wants him to leave because he is so popular.
Fred Smith, who owns several car dealerships in the local town, stands up and proclaims: “If the Vicar stays, I will provide him with a new Mercedes every year and his wife with a Volkswagen Polo to transport their children!”
The congregation sighs in appreciation and applauds.
Sam Brown, a successful entrepreneur and publican, stands and says, “If the Vicar will stay on here, I'll personally double his salary and establish a foundation to guarantee private secondary school education for all of his children!”
More sighs and loud applause.
Agnes Jones, age 88, stands and announces with a smile, “If the Vicar stays, I will give him free sex.”
There is total silence.
The Preacher, blushing, asks her, “Mrs. Jones, you’re a wonderful and holy lady, whatever possessed you to say that?”
Agnes’s 90-year old husband, Joe, is now trying to hide, holding his forehead with the palm of his hand and shaking his head from side to side, while his wife replies:
“Well, I just asked my husband how we could help, and he said, ‘Fuck him’”.
