Ho! Ho! Ho! - A modern Christmas Tale
By: John Allen - HMP Gartree
Things were not going at all well in the offices of santaclaus.com. It was already December 24th and there was still a mountain of toys and presents to deliver.
Back in the summer, when the decision to go 'high tec' was taken, no-one had foreseen the enormous increase in the volume of business it would mean. This year, Father Christmas had been overwhelmed with emails and text messages from children of all ages and whilst, earlier in the year, parents had been concerned their offspring might accidentally encounter ‘porn’ on the internet, it now seemed that all hyperlinks led to Lapland.
Everyone on the firm was feeling the strain, even the reindeer. This was always a difficult time for them, but this year had been exceptional. The sledges were extremely heavy and there were so many additional journeys to be made. The extra work had taken its toll; both Donner and Blitzen were virtually lame and Rudolph's famous red nose had faded to an insipid shade of pink.
The elves too - Santa's little helpers - were totally fed up. Some months back, their union representative had been able to negotiate a small increase in the minimum wage for packing toys, but even he had not been able to foresee the enormous increase in the workload. Earlier in the month things had got so bad that the elves threatened strike action, and this was only averted by the personal intervention of Mrs Christmas, who had to promise the elves new toadstools if they stuck to their task.
As for the great man himself, he was totally frazzled. People just didn't seem to realise that all the extra presents meant there was even more sherry to imbibe and mince pies to consume. Already those pies were lying heavily in his stomach, so much so that his renowned red costume was now so tight he could hardly breathe. Nor was his demeanour improved by all the cheap sherry sloshing around his liver. In a normal year his intake of sherry would serve to give him a benign glow, but this year's over-indulgence had led to a foul, drink-induced temper and woe betide anyone who crossed him when he was in this sort of mood.
Inevitably, mistakes were made. Just the day before, Santa himself had delivered a mountain bike to a four-year-old who had asked for a tricycle! When the Chief Elf pointed out the error, Father Christmas used some distinctly unseasonal language!
So it was with some trepidation that the Head Fairy knocked on Santa's door at 11.45pm on Christmas Eve.
"Bugger off" came the bad-tempered response from within.
Nevertheless, the Head Fairy pushed open the door and entered, dragging a Christmas tree behind her.
"What do you want?" the grumpy old man snapped.
"Well, Santa," she said, "We've delivered all the trees you asked us to. There's just this one left”.
"So?" glowered Santa.
“What should I do with it?"
I expect, like me, you've often wondered how the tradition of having a fairy at the top of a Christmas tree began!
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