As a Christmas “treat”, and with huge apologies to Clement Clarke Moore whose poem I may have shamelessly stolen and amended to reflect a more security conscious age...
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the properly secured house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, as they’d been prevented entry by recently-fitted anti snap locks.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, but far enough from the fire to ensure no fire hazard presented itself.
In hopes that no-one soon would be there, for the locks, alarms and security lights should act as a real deterrent.