Father Christmas was up on the roof.
Mrs. Claus and the elves had devised a new training regime.
The lockdown hadn't been kind, not with The Claus's diet.
He waddled across the snow glazed slate, listing from left to right, ho ho-ing with every step.
He clambered into a chimney.
The elves lubed up his expansive frame
They pulled out plungers and tried to prod him down to ground level.