For years there has been so much misinformation and bullshit regarding one Mr. Claus. Kiddies all over the world swear by him. Most adults have a more cynical attitude towards him and many believe he doesn’t even exist.
I took it upon myself to get to the bottom of the story. For the last 15 years I’ve been going undercover and I’ve finally dug up the truth about Santa. The truth is shocking. Not only does the man exist, Santa Claus is the most dangerous paedophile on the planet.
My research began around 1995. At this time the stories started to surface about Irish paedophile priests. I noticed a certain similarity between priests and Santa. Both like children. They really like children! It turns out that priests like children so much that they made passionate love to the children. They also gave little presents to the kids to keep them sweet, kinda similar to when a guy fucks his woman and keeps her sweet by buying her a necklace or some shit.
I realized this was also very similar to the way Santa Claus gives presents to kids every year. Call me cynical but there isn’t a person on the planet who does a good deed for someone without expecting something in return. I became highly suspicious of Mr. Claus and so the research began.
According to the kiddies, Santa lives in the North Pole. But apparently every year thousands of parents and their bastard children go to a place called Lapland to visit Santa. Being in Scandinavia and less harsh than the North Pole, I decided to give it a try.
Lapland, not quite the North Pole
When I showed up I was met with a shit load of rich middle class families and a few families with sick children who were given a free trip via some charity. As an adult male by myself, I felt slightly awkward and out of place. The dark sunglasses and long black coat didn’t do much for my image but I was on a mission. So fucking what if people thought I was paedophile. I guess the smug grin at the irony of it all made my overall look that little bit worse.
Anyway, after a few hours of pelting terminally ill kids in the face with my huge snowballs, I decided to stop dicking around and meet this Santa dude.
After standing in the queue for about 3 hours listening to a bunch of spoiled middle class kids from all over Europe talk about their fucking pet ponies, I finally got to meet Santa. As soon I saw him I immediately knew. This was not Santa. This was just some fat bastard with a fake white beard.
Upon meeting the guy I had to go through the motions to avoid suspicion. I sat on his knee and told him I wanted a bike and some video games. And of course, the obligatory surprise.
Feeling a bit depressed in the knowledge that this was a wasted trip, I tried to make the best of the situation by pelting a few more sick children with my balls. Four hours of kiddie tears and looks of horror from shocked parents later, I decided to go into a nearby field full of reindeer and stick a few firecrackers in their ears. Needless to say, this ended quite badly for the reindeer. Fortunately for me though there were no cops around to sort me out.
What I learned in Lapland
After the initial excitement with the firecrackers in the reindeer ears incident, I felt depressed again. I decided the only answer was to go to the social gathering that took place that night. Being a child friendly venue there was no beer being served. Thankfully though I bought some booze at the airport and drank it all in my log cabin before showing up to the gathering.
When I arrived an amazing sight struck me. All of a sudden, these annoying child obsessed mothers had transformed into highly fuckable milfs. Yet another victory for alcohol I thought.
Not even a wank took place here, fucking hell
About 30 slaps in the face later I decided to return to my log cabin. Feeling extremely depressed by this stage, I tried to console myself at the fact that being in Scandinavia I’d have some adult channels to look forward to back in the cabin. Alas, there were no such channels. After debating with myself for about 5 minutes, I decided it would be way too difficult to jerk off to Nickelodeon and the Disney Channel so I went to sleep.
The trip to Lapland was so bad I decided to put the research on hold. I guess the main reason was because I knew in my heart that to get to the bottom of the story meant a trip to the top of the world. The kids were right. Santa did live in the North Pole and I had to go there.
I spent the next 6 years researching all the great polar explorers. Robert Peary, Roald Amundsen, Robert Falcon Scott, Tom Crean, the whole fucking lot of them. I went on a few trips to Iceland and Greenland to get some practice in.
Then in 2001, I decided to head for the big North Pole. I bought a sled and two huskies from some eskimo and off I went.
Words can’t describe how bad it was. My cock was frozen solid. It was like having a hard on without an erection. Surreal as fuck. I managed to survive by eating the carcass of a dead baby polar bear I found on the way.
After 3 weeks of hell, I finally made it to the North Pole. Was there anything there apart from a few flags put up by past explorers? Well, yes, yes there was.
Standing there before me at the very top of the world was the largest man-made structure I had ever seen. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I walked all round and eventually found the entrance. I walked in and went up to the reception area. At the reception was a hot blonde chick called Olga. I asked her if she knew a guy called Santa Claus. She chuckled. It was the kind of embarrassing giggle a girl gives when you mention a guy she gives blow jobs to.
Olga, the receptionist
She told me to wait in the waiting room. I sat there watching the Nickelodeon channel as flashbacks came back to me of that ill-fated trip to Lapland. It was only then, more than 6 years later, the horrible thought entered my head that I had blown the fucking heads off a load of defenceless animals. What a cunt.
After a few minutes of hating myself, the door of the waiting room opened. And there he appeared. I nodded my head slowly. It was him. This was Santa Claus. There was no doubt about it.
He shook my hand. My hand felt wet upon shaking it. I figured Santa must have extremely sweaty hands. That was until I rubbed my nose a few seconds letter and was hit with a very strong odour of cum. Jesus fucking Christ.
Santa then brought me to his office. He asked me why I came to the North Pole. I told him I wanted to visit him and see what the truth was.
His friendly demeanour made me feel at ease. He then began to tell me about himself. What he told me was exactly the same as what the kiddies say. He lives in The North Pole and has an army of helpers who make toys for kids which he delivers once a year.
I then began to ask him about his motivation. Santa became silent. Then a tear rolled down his cheek. He then looked at me and began to talk.
This is what he said:
Ok, I’ll tell you the truth. My name isn’t Santa Claus. My real name is Father Fintan McFeely. I’m an excommunicated Irish Catholic priest. I was thrown out of the priesthood more than two hundred years ago. The then pope threw me out because I had only sexually abused 6 boys in my parish. It was a huge shock to me. Raping 6 boys repeatedly seemed like good going to me. When I was summoned to the Vatican I was told that the priest in my neighbouring parish, Father Frank FitzChildren had been abusing 14 boys and 9 girls.
I was devastated. I felt worthless. I felt useless. All my years in the priesthood had gone to waste. Seven years in Maynooth training, and then four years working in the parish of Ballyfuckit, and all I had to show for it were 6 boys up the arse.
I spent the next 20 years hitting the booze pretty hard. I felt suicidal and one day I decided to jump off the Cliffs of Moher. Thankfully in those days we didn’t have cars and the interpretive centre didn’t exist, all of which meant that I could go there for free.
So there I stood on the ledge, staring out into the Atlantic. I was about to jump when a white light suddenly appeared in the distance. The light slowly got bigger and brighter. As it drew closer, it began to take shape. The shape was that of a young boy. It had to be. I may have only raped 6 boys but I’d recognize that shape anywhere. And so it was. Before my very eyes was the sweet innocent face of a prepubescent boy. The boy began to speak to me. He said, “Father Fintan, your work on this earth is not done, in fact, it’s just beginning. From now on I bestow the name of Santa Claus upon thee. Open your heart and you will find all the answers.”
And with that, he disappeared. It was an amazing moment. I felt enlightened. I didn’t know any of the answers but I knew I’d find them. So delirious and excited by the experience, I whipped my clothes off and ran all around county Clare arse naked.
I spent the next 3 months roaming around the banner county. I lived off the nature of the land. Eating nothing but berries, I took the decision to not kill any of the wild deer. Anyone who hurts animals, especially deer, is a total prick.
Anyway, one day I was resting in Ailwee cave when all of a sudden my life changed forever. A memory came flashing into my head. The memory was a conversation I once had with Father Frank FitzChildren. He told me he had been down to the local shop to buy a fuck load of sweets. At the time I assumed Father Frank really liked sweets.
It was only when I was sitting in the cave I realized why he bought the sweets. The sweets weren’t for him. They were for children. Of course!
The reason Father Frank managed to seduce so many kids was because he gave them something back in return. Now I knew my own mistake. I had raped 6 boys and never gave them anything. Jesus, I was so lucky to manage to even get 6.
And with that startling revelation came my great plan. I would travel to a distant land and pick up some disciples on the way. My followers would help me make toys for all the kids of the world. Once I delivered presents to all of them I could then have them return the favour by letting me make love to them. The plan was genius.
Well, the rest is all history and here I am today. Once a year I deliver to the kids of the world and I get to make love to them. And because I give them so many presents they never complain. Kids love me, and the more presents I give, the more they want to please me. I made it, top of the world, literally.
Jesus H Christ. I sat there in Santa’s office with my mouth wide open. Realizing this may not have been the safest of stances, I quickly shut it again. It confirmed my suspicions, but still. To hear the words come out of his mouth was still shocking.
I decided to quickly make my exit. He then offered me a brand new PS2 with a second controller and 4 platinum games. He assured me he didn’t expect anything in return as I was much too old. I politely declined. I lied and said I was an Xbox fanboy and I couldn’t possibly accept his generous offer.
As I quickly exited the building and glanced over at reception, I realized I should have asked Santa if I could get a quick shag off his hot receptionist. Oh well, fuck it, as much as I was dying for a shag, I wanted to get the fuck out of the North Pole as quick as I could.
Out the door I went and headed south. The trip back was numbing, both physically and mentally. I finally made it back to Ireland and still felt nothing for a long time afterwards. Who would have thought that Santa Claus was an Irish paedophile priest? Incredible.
That was 9 years ago. After much thought and anxiety I have now decided to tell this amazing story.
To all the kids out there, I wish you a Merry Christmas and I hope Santa cums and gives you a happy ending to the year.
Now you know why so many kids are scared of Santa
[...] Caligula – “Diets Work, Fat People Don’t“, “Good News: Santa Claus Exists. Bad News: Santa Claus is a Paedophile” [...]
Yo, what happened to you Irish lads? Shouldn’t you guys be around, taking the piss out of the pedophile priests and the Vatican cover-up, like RTE is doing? (Like you were doing before…)
http://toysoldier.wordpress.com/2011/01/20/irsh-bishops-warned-not-to-report-abuse/
Plus, what about more hotties? I mean boob.ie is fine and all, love seeing them amateur Irish boobies (though they don’t compare to Kerry Condon, yum), but some more Kylie Minogue ass or Emma Watson pubes or whatever would also be cracking, eh what?
Well Will, myself Vespasian and Marcus Aurelius have decided to join the priesthood. We’re going to spend the next 7 years training to be priests in Maynooth and when we’re qualified we’ll bring the Church back to its former glory while espousing the virtues of abusing young boys.
Yeah! You tell those Polack Father “Jerczy”s and “Wladislaw”s where to go; make the Irish Catholic church safe for pleasant Irish priests.