All I want for Christmas is for the Elf on the Shelf to disappear

Children are encouraged to write a letter to Santa, but why shouldn’t grown-ups also express their hopes and dreams? As usual at this time of year, I’m sending my wish list.

Dear Santa,
Could the Elves be a little less gendered when it comes to Christmas presents? Oh, we appreciate the work they put in, hammering and sewing away all through the year, but could they supply toys that don’t hit the child over the head with a gender stick? What, for instance, happened to Lego, which used to be the same when delivered to any child, but now comes in red and black weaponised dragons for the boys, and pink mermaid aquariums for the girls? And then there are the clothes – with pink sparkly unicorn T-shirts for the girls and camouflage designs for the boys. Elves! You can do better! These children will have plenty of gender stereotyping in their lives. Could they catch a break until they are, say, five?

Dear Santa,
Could the batteries be included? I don’t know if you realise, but most shops are closed on Christmas Day. Also, by noon on Christmas Day, the grandfather has already had a “tiny glass of champagne”, by which I mean “three glasses of sweat-inducing Hunter shiraz”. He cannot drive down to the service station to buy the three triple-A batteries necessary to coax even the tiniest movement from the “Complete Farm Set Including Tractor and Farm Animals”, which the Elves have thoughtfully provided for the four-year-old. If the Elves don’t intend to include the batteries, could they at least include a packet of tissues for the sobbing child?

Dear Santa,
Could the Elf on the Shelf not be a thing? You may have noticed, everyone is already quite busy at this time of the year. I know it wasn’t your idea, but we’d all appreciate a word from you to whatever trendsetter came up with the “innovation”.

Dear Santa,
Could the terrible Christmas movie – “so bad you’ll love it” – not be a thing? It’s a romance, set in a mythical Central European country, with a Prince and a young American woman, plus lots of snow and the odd horse-drawn carriage. Bring back Morecambe and Wise, please Santa, or at very least the Lego Masters Bricksmas Special.

Could you avoid presents that are labelled “self-assembly”?

Dear Santa,
I’ve done my Christmas shopping, most of it, but I’d like the retail sign writers to treat me with more respect. Perhaps you, with your supreme buying power, could intervene. For instance, the other day in Woolworths, I was exiting the shop when I was presented with the following message: “Hands full? Pick up a basket!” It was beside a stack of those green supermarket baskets at the end of the self-checkout, just before the security gate. I had a few thoughts about this. Why are they telling me just as I am leaving the store? Do they imagine I’ve just spent a horrendous half-hour, dragging myself through the store, a litre of milk under my right arm, some rapidly defrosting prawns nestled in my left armpit, a jar of olives balanced on my head? Plus, are we quite so dumb that we need to be instructed as to the use that might be made of a basket? Santa, as someone who always remembers to place his parcels in a sleigh, you may be the person to put them straight.

Dear Santa,
Could there be less consumer choice? Back at Woolworths, a defrosting pizza balanced on my head – I’d forgotten to grab a basket! – I counted 12 different choices for shaving cream. This is eleven choices too many. And don’t start me on the toothpaste. Maybe they think we need a different formulation for every tooth. Santa, as someone who has to confront so many choices, could you reform the system?