Dear Santa

Dear Santa,
I have been a good boy.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Mark Saggers's Christmas party. It was Daz who spiked the punch with too much pimms. I can't help it if I drank 19 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like Bannana ReGO.
I thought it was funny when I put Pete's tri suit on my head and danced the macaroni on the treadmill while singing `dominick the donkey'. I didn't mean to break Mark Saggers's tooth brush and don't know why Mark Saggers would sue me for indecent exposure.
I don't remember calling Michael Westwell's a walking Rhino---even though he looked like one with purple eye shadow and green lipstick!
And when I threw up on Deborah's thingy, it was only because I ate too much of that green stuff.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my bicycle through my neighbor's training room. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a swimming chimp and have me arrested for speeding!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all tired and stiff. And I'm really not to blame for any of this triathlon stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and Wonderfully yours,Michael (Really a nice boy!)
P.S. can I also have a new bike with go faster wheels as the police have confiscated my last one!