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One particular Christmas, a long time ago, Santa was getting ready for his annual progress . . . but there were problems everywhere.

Four of his production elves were ill, for instance; and the trainee alternates were not able to make toys at the required pace. Accordingly, Santa began to feel pressure from his programme’s falling behind schedule.

Then, his wife told him that her mother was coming to stay for a while; a piece of news that, unsurprisingly, did nothing to cool his incipiently fevered brow.

Next he went to harness the reindeer, but found that three of them were about to give birth and that another two, having jumped the fence, were out on the razz. More stress.

He began nevertheless to load the sleigh. In the process there was a little accident. One of the boards cracked and the toy bag, falling to the ground, scattered the toys.

So, irritated almost to the point of desperation, Santa went back into the house for a cup of coffee and a glass of whisky. When he arrived at the cupboard, he discovered the elves had hidden his supply of the “water of life” and that, consequently, there was no therapeutic medicament available to relief his cerebral tension.

In a state of mounting frustration, he inadvertently dropped the coffee pot and broke it into hundreds of little pieces.

He went to get the broom to sweep up, only to find that mice had eaten the straw from which it was made.

Just then, the bell rang and Santa made his way, cussingly, to the door. He opened it and saw in front of him a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.

The angel said, very cheerfully, “Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't it just a lovely day? I have this beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?”

Thus began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.

:)