I wrote this for a competition that Amazon were running a while back, where they invited writers to revise the famous old poem. I didn't win (pity the fools!) but it tickled my fancy, so I thought I'd share it here. Just don't expect any reindeer -- this is the 21st century, so I figured Santa would have rolled with the times and updated!

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flat
Not a creature was stirring, not even a cat.
The black bags were hung outside by the lifts,
In the hope that old Santa would drop off some gifts.

The children were playing on their iPad,
Ignoring the cries of their poor Mum and Dad.
“To bed,” they both cried, “children, to bed!”
To which the kids snorted, “We’ll sleep when we’re dead!”

When out on the roof of a 7-Eleven,
Something came clattering down from the heavens.
Off to the window I trotted with glee,
Had a plane overhead dropped its WC?

A full moon shone bright on a roof packed with snow,
Which was also lit up by a street lamp’s harsh glow.
I saw, to my wonder, a sight most bizarre,
A red, stylish sleigh, hooked up to eight cars.

With a young, handsome driver, so lively and quick,
I gawped as I thought, “That can’t be St Nick!”
The car engines roared, their exhausts shot out flames,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now, Audi! now, Lexus! now, Tesla and Bentley!
On, Jaguar! Porsche! Merc and Ferrari!
Get down off this roof! Then head for that wall!
Now vroom away! Vroom away! Vroom away all!"

Like eight untamed horses they leapt oh so high,
Flew down close to the road, then up! to the sky.
To the top of the block with our flat those cars flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and Santa Claus too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard just outside
The sound of a boot start to scrabble and glide.
The glass in the window turned into mist,
Then Santa swung in and blew Mum a kiss.

He was dressed in red lycra, from his head to his foot,
Every inch of him spotless, not a whisper of soot.
A wild cloud of Toys floated behind,
A-spin in the air, controlled by his mind.

His eyes — how they shone! his sunglasses, how hot!
His cheekbones so high, up his nose, not a snot!
His smile was as wide as our widescreen TV,
And there on his chin was a tight, white goatee.

I knew he brushed often, by the shine of his teeth,
And chewed gum after meals, one sugar-free piece.
He was sporting a six-pack, finely tuned abs,
He tapped them and grinned, said, “Aren’t they fab!”

He was such a preener, a right vain old elf,
So I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A Do-I-care? sniff and a flick of his wrist,
Let me know my opinion wouldn’t be missed.

He struck a daft pose, and looked for the bags,
Dad said, “By the lifts, and oh! what a Jag!”
Santa nodded and beamed, and murmured, “Vroom! Vroom!”
Then waved us goodbye as he slipped from our room.

From there to his sleigh, and off his team tore,
Until this time next year, to be seen nevermore.
But I got a text from him, before he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas, cool cat, have a groovy good-night!"