(By the way, if you are wondering whether you won, we reveal the name of the winner at the end of this article. And if the name there is not yours, you still have many chances to win dozens more fabulous prizes in our Twelve Days of Christmas Competition).
So, did everyone want an iPod? Almost everybody. But not quite. Some of you wanted Santa to bring some very strange things indeed. Take this terrible trio, looking for a little tingle with their tinsel:
Alex Waddell, a technology risk manager, asks for: "One of those battery operated massagers - the one that looks like six little puppies trying to escape from a bin bag that you strap to your office chair, armchair, dining room chair, toilet seat."
Santa is unsure about that, Alex, but suggests you try in Japan.
Dennis Foy, who lists his occupation as God, is more straightforward. He wants: "A vibrating chair; if I am going to be deskbound, at least I will be getting massaged without being distracted..." which Santa thinks should be standard office equipment. Definitely classier than a wrist-rest -- or a bolt of lightning.
Kyle Kennedy, student, has a similar dream, but is somewhat sneakier. "The iPod with built-in foot massager. This leading product provides customers with an amazing music experience combined with the relaxation that only an iPod can provide."
Santa will be sure to leave the product suggestion when he pops down Steve Jobs' chimney. He'll also ask around when he's visiting William Shatner, to see if he can help with these enterprising chaps:
Colin Gibson, director of a Web design consultancy, wants to beam up "one of those machines they have on Star Trek that makes whatever food you want. Sitting at my desk over Xmas would be a lot more bearable if I could have roast turkey with all the trimmings followed by Xmas pud (oh, and a glass of sherry too)." Commendable Christmas spirit, Colin, but the last time Santa found himself on Federation ground the darn thing would only produce synthehol sherry and lo-carb mince pies. He recommends the Romulan Winter Warmer.
IT director John Carlin wishes for a mixture of Trek tech and Klingon backup: "How about a Star Trek Tricorder? -- wave it in front of the offending device, an instant diagnosis and solution. Alternatively a hammer, it may not solve the problem but it would certainly relieve that stress."
Josev King is also suffused with the true spirit of Christmas: He wants "A Star Trek transporter. Get me away from my family." And in similar vein, senior solutions engineer Michael Cameron has his heart set on "a Star Trek holodeck would be nice if you could arrange one. Somewhere to escape the guests, the cooking and the washing-up -- that won't be covered in tinsel; a present that even the kids might use beyond Boxing Day."
IT manager Rob Vaughan has a sneaky thought. If you're going to ask for just one present... "my one 'must-have' tech gadget would have to be a replicator unit, as featured in Star Trek. While not actually a reality, imagine the fun you could have over Christmas. No more cold manky sandwiches from whichever garage you can find open. Instead, Christmas lunch hot. Tea, earl grey hot, coffee (with a little something added to keep out the cold) or even Czech Beer. Of course being a complete fiction, you would also be able to generate your own music player, DVD player, TV or even a pool table. Now that’s what I call stress relief. " What, no iPod? You strange man.
Others are more practicable in their festive wishes. Santa has a great deal of sympathy for Vincent Roberts, who "being a nuclear safety engineer, would love to have a wireless link from my PDA to control our two nuclear reactors, so that I could spend time at home and keep in touch with 'the office'. However, life's not like 'The Simpsons' and so this would probably never be allowed to happen". Rudolph, who got his glowing red nose doing deliveries to the boys and girls at Windscale a while back, is rather happy about that.
He's also going nowhere near Andrew Harvey, who is dreaming of a gift-wrapped "shotgun. With a laser sight for the technological value." Santa regrets that a surprising number of the naughtier children requested firearms or other weaponry, some quite ingenious such as Steve Bell's "remote electric shock delivery system. Using this on the phone system would alleviate the problems that cause the stress."
William Lamb, company owner, has a much less evil suggestion: "a talking stress ball. Squeeze it and it utters a random series of grovelling apologies. 'It was my fault.' 'You were right.' 'Without your technical brilliance...', etc." Santa likes that.
Santa also sees considerable merit in the gift request of company owner William Robertson's heart's desire - "A fully automatic still would be a great boon to a busy Scot as it would allow him to produce his very own brand of single malt and would ensure that all his friends came along to his party."