Oh dear, Mr. Baldrick. It looks as though we're in for a bit of a thin Christmas. –Don't you worry, Mr. B. I'm hanging my sock up so Santa'll come down the chimney. –Mr. Baldrick, I guarantee that if there's one thing liable to stop Santa coming down the chimney it's your sock waiting for him at the end of it.
If I smelled as bad as you, I wouldn't live near people.