Moz The Monster is someone I don’t understand. For a start, I don’t understand whether or not you can refer to a monster as being a someone. I suppose you can. I mean, he clearly has feeling so why not?

It is these very feelings, in fact, that cause me to not understand him.

Moz The Monster…. (if that IS your real name.)

Presumably he has a Sunday name, although we are not told. If he paid for the lighty gift (that he gives the boy in the advert) via credit card or John Lewis store card, I should imagine he’d have had to register with his full name. Or the bank account he was paid into for doing the advert should undoubtedly have his precise details.

If you work on the payroll of John Lewis, or you are Moz The Monster’s bank manager and you’re reading this, please inform me. I suspect Moz is short for Maurice. Although I put myself at error for, in 2017, trying to determine the sex and ethnicity of cuddly monsters. Maybe it is just Moz.

After all, just being called Moz is actually the least unbelievable aspect about the monster in the John Lewis advert.

Why does Moz The Monster want to cast aside the friendship he has with the child? He presumably has fun with the child in the advert, not unlike the way The Snowman kept up the boy who wasn’t Aled Jones… in The Snowman. (How was he not cold, walking in all that icy air?)

The child in the John Lewis advert clearly loves the monster under his bed. Who wouldn’t love such a thing? He’s fun, by the looks of it.

There is clearly no threat made by the monster to the boy that he is going to eat him. That is the one concern that can be held about any under-bed monsters.

Moz The Monster clearly pays more attention to the boy than the rest of his family.

The child falls asleep during football WITH HIS DAD WATCHING! It’s not as if the parents haven’t seen it. His Dad is watching him fall asleep in front of his very eyes, yet simply looks socially embarrassed by his own son’s lack of ability.

When a monster who lives under the bed pays more attention to you than your own family, that’s probably a sign that authorities should at least make a little phone call.

Mind you, if the parents don’t even notice a gigantic monster under the bed of their son, maybe they need help themselves. Perhaps it should’ve been an advert for SpecSavers.

On Christmas morning, when the child picks out a present that is clearly not wrapped in the family style, the Mum could not give a reindeer’s hooter about who it’s from. That’s the first present I would look at.

That said, I’m a new Dad. It’s easy to say when they’re not running around yet. Or falling asleep during homework. I’m not judging.

Moz The Monster gives his best friend a present. The child, who clearly only has Moz The Monster as his one and only confident… then sleeps at night. Problem solved.

Moz has essentially given the child an iPad during teatime. Again, I’m a new Dad. I have this yet to come. I’m not judging. (We weren’t giving Alfie a dummy for the first 3 weeks; we soon caved. Wanted to get in there before the monster did.)

So, what of their friendship? Well, presumably the parents are feeling quite smug that their undoubted claim of “it’s probably just a phase” proved right.

As for Moz The Monster, he clearly just wanted to get his own sleep at night-time and to do his own thing in the day. (I saw him advertising a £200 toy robot earlier – literally a capitalist monster.)

There is the sweet thought that he followed the advice of Jimmy Nail who once said, “If you love somebody, set them free”.

So did Moz love the child… or was he simply an assignment: a job for the cynical, money grabber?

Probably though, Moz The Monster got bored. Being stuffed under that single bed all day. It’s no life for a monster.

Mind, he could have run around the kitchen naked all day for all it mattered.

It’s not like the parents would have even noticed.