The dog has been de-throned......

I felt really flat when I discovered that Father Christmas did not exist. This devastating piece of news was kept from me until last week, when I failed to read the spoiler alert in The Times. Yes we, have to be so careful these days to protect our young from the abject truth that some fat old geezer in a red plush rig-out is not going to squeeze down the chimney with the new bike they ordered. So very careful, that The Times had to apologise for the article where a psychologist spilled the festive beans by suggesting that it was harmful to children to perpetuate  the myth. Any child reading The Times needs to brought into the inner-circle, says I.
My childhood memories do not include leaving out a glass of sherry for Father Christmas. Just as well, really, as a glass of Bristol Cream would not have sat comfortably upon the generous few pints that my father would have consumed at the Con Club in Llanelli with my Uncle Heilyn.  As the mince-pies made by my grandmother would have been off-limit, my father would have been directed instead to the turkey-neck and giblets that were slow-cooking in readiness for the gravy on Christmas day. Stomachs were stronger in those days. At least my father's was.
We managed to keep the myth for our own two children for as long as we could. At least, the whole process was not complicated by a bloomin' Elf. This is the latest thing. As a parent you purchase your Elf on the Shelf in November, then each night you re-position him somewhere in your house, getting up to mischief. Each morning, the credulous child runs downstairs to see what Elfie has been up to.
Well, as if any normal parents did not have enough on their plate at this time of year? However, the Elf gives a great deal of pleasure, and much laughter as the one remaining believer in Buckingham gets up each morning with huge enthusiasm to see whatever next.
I watch and say nothing. But entrenous, I've heard it tell, that often at midnight as his tired parents get into bed there is a cry of "The 'king Elf! For goddsake!".
Thank goodness he disappears back to the North Pole on the 24th. (No, doesn't wait for Twelf Night..)
I fear for the mental elf of parents everywhere.