Jesus Christ, Christmas Detective

Sergeant Jesus was the pride of the Christmas Island Police Department. He stood over six foot tall, with long flowing hair as silky as an otter, and magical eyes that made women swoon and turned men into massive gays. Also, he was really muscular and that, exactly the same as Gerard Butler from the film 300 and also those adverts for moisturiser.

Everyone on Christmas Island loved Sergeant Jesus, except for his superior: Captain Santa Claus, who was loads fat and also a bit of a twat, like James Corden but with the brain of James Corden.

“Get into my office, Christ!” roared Captain Santa Claus. Sergeant Jesus entered with a cool confidence, like teenage boy who’s just seen a nipple.

“Some sort of problem, Chief?”

“You bet your Xmas ass there is, Sergeant Jesus! What the Xmas did you think you were doing out there?”

“My job,” replied Jesus, slamming his crucified hand down on the table and smashing it to pieces with an accidental karate chop.

“Xmasdammit, Jesus, you’re a loose cannon with a carefree rookie attitude who doesn’t play by the rules!”

Jesus smirked. “Sorry Chief, didn’t realise the rules meant sitting behind a desk all day stuffing your face with puddings,” he quipped, winking at the sexy policewomen looking in at the window. They were all like “oooooh.”

“You’re out of Xmas order!” screamed Captain Santa Claus, and he tried to rise to his feet but he was too fat and everyone laughed.

“No Captain, you’re out of Xmas order! Maybe I oughta throw in my Christmas badge right now, I’d like to see you clean up this town without me. You’ll have reindeer running riot and elves… being rapists, or something – good luck!” He turned to go, but Captain Santa Claus stopped him.

“Funny story, Sergeant Jesus, but you can’t quit. I’ve got orders from the Mayor of Christmas Island to give you the sack” [of presents]

“What the Xmas are you talking about?”

“You’re fired! Hand over your Christmas badge and your tinsel gun and get the Xmas out of my office.”

Everyone was silent, except for one bloke who accidentally farted but pretended it was just the chair he was sitting on. Sergeant Jesus tossed his beautiful mane in slow motion and walked back to his superior.

He unhooked his police badge and threw his regulation tinsel gun into the wreckage of Santa Claus’ desk. Then he fixed the police chief stare that would have made Batman poo his pants.

“You’d better watch out, you’d better not cry, you’d better not pout, I’m telling you why: you’re a fat fuck!” And with that witty rejoinder, leaving Captain Santa Claus shaking like a plate of red and white jelly, former Sergeant Jesus Christ strode out of the room like a boss.

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