Imagine How Depressed Santa Is On New Year's Eve

Just picture it, it's nearing to December and you're Santa. I imagine the thought process would go something like this:
"Finally, I've actually got some purpose in this world once again! I've just been sitting here with my fucking wife in Lapland having a piss-poor time, but NOW it's Santa-O'Clock. Bring it."
So Santa spends all of December on top of the world, dancing around in the snow, preparing his sleigh and shit, singing 'I Saw Mama Kissing Santa Claus,' in a somewhat perverse fashion. He's in such high spirits that him and his wife even manage to have a fairly engrossing conversation which doesn't involve the words 'I'm sure it happens to everybody.'
But then, as quickly as it began, Christmas would be over for Santa once again.
He sets out on Christmas eve, and 'Ho-ho-ho'-ing the entire way he delivers all the presents. But then, the moment the last chimney is climbed out of, his crippling depression takes hold once again. I hear these days he even purposefully wakes children up with a really loud cough just so they'll be all like: "Wow it's Santa!" and he can get a bit of an ego boost out of it. Reason being, he knows very well that once they've got their presents and Christmas day is over, nobody gives the slightest shit about Santa. He trawls back to the North Pole to freeze his fat self, only for the wife to be all like: "Clear up all this reindeer shit."
"You fucking do it! I've just been out delivering fucking presents and shit, what have you done? Nowt!"
"Why are you saying 'nowt'? You're not from up North."
"On the contrary, I'm from THE NORTH POLE!" he says, with a cheeky wink. His wife just gives him her usual look of absolute disgust and wanders off.
So indeed, not even diabolical word-play can distract Santa from what's ahead......that most awful of all nights.....New Year's Eve.
Indeed, ‘tis that very night of December when nobody can even remember the name 'Santa'.
Nobody's singing about him anymore, they're banging on about 'Auld Lang Syne' and that.
"Nobody even knows the fucking words," Santa can often be heard to grumble. It's pretty much the equivalent of you having a really nice birthday and everyone loving you up and then suddenly a smug tosser turning up and announcing: "It's my birthday now," and then everyone literally sprinting over to them and holding them above their heads and leaving you on your own, and then suddenly it starts pissing down with rain on just you, like in cartoons.
All I'm saying is, next time you have a disappointing New Year's Eve, save a thought for Santa. Even if yours isn't completely satisfactory, at least it isn't a horribly grounding reminder that people only care about you for one day in the entire year.
A side note, have you ever noticed that 'Santa' is an anagram for 'Satan'?
Perhaps this 'Hell' that Lucifer was cast into was the eternal task of climbing down chimneys every year and really putting himself out for people he doesn't even know?
............
SOMEBODY GET ME THE PRESIDENT!!