T'was The Night Before Xmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

“Do I really have to do this?”

“Yes,” Nicole Di Cuza whispers back digging me in the ribs.

I look down at the group of infant school kids at my feet. I can’t remember the exact point in between a glass of Stella in the kitchen and Nicole’s bedroom where I had agreed to take part in this Christmas show. The only bit I can confidently remember was Nicole telling me that she was doing a show. The mayor’s annual Christmas show has been running for about ten years with money going to the Rock n’ Rolla Children’s Charity Appeal. Nicole, always willing to give herself up for charity, had agreed to do a psychic reading but I’m quietly confident the words, and Detective Inspector Jack Daniels will dress up like Father Christmas and surround himself with snotty brats for the show, never materialised.

“I’m missing Batman Returns you know,” I whisper.

“That’s not all you’ll be missing if you ruin the show,” Nicole hisses back.

Gazing around the concert hall I pray to God that nobody I knew was watching.

When from outside my window there arose such a clatter. I sprung from my chair to see what’s the matter.

At least I can console myself with the knowledge that even though I sit here in a fluffy white beard with several pillows strapped to my waist, I don’t have to stand there in a short green dress and a pair of old Vulcan ears pretending to be an Elf, but to be fair to her though she does have the figure, and the height. I bet she never thought that she’d be dressed up like a hooker from the North Pole when she used to celebrate ‘Craciun’ with her family back in Romania.

Away to the window I flew like a flash. Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. When, what to my wandering eyes should appear. But a big red sleigh and eight panting reindeer.

I was dying for a fag. I promised Nicole I’d try and quit. Maybe I’ll have two beers to compensate. At least with being the second act on I’m not hanging around. The crowd were at least vaguely interested, even if these kids weren’t, I recognise one of them, his Dad Albert Harris was nicked on a drunk and disorderly charge after relieving himself on a statue of Medusa in the town centre.

The little old driver, so lively and quick. I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.

It doesn’t even make any sense. Why would Santa be reading a story about finding Santa on his roof? I tell myself time and time again never to agree to anything ever again. I feel like grabbing the small redhead kid in front of me and shouting for God’s sake kid stop picking your nose, you’re meant to be enthralled with wonder and surprise.

Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!


In the faintest of distances I can hear Stella calling out to me from the bar area. Chief Inspector Farrell would call this inter-community police relations. I call this looking like a Div.

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof. The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my hand and was turning around, down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

I think about my flat, the scraggy Christmas tree that looks out of place underneath my new gothic angel, after a while her blank expression has begun to freak me out, especially as she bears a startling resemblance to Jennifer Tilly. I’ve never really wanted to celebrate Christmas, but it appears every woman I date thinks I need a little Christmas spirit, personally the only spirit I’m interested in can be found mixed in Eggnog.

His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The beard on my chin appears to be made of some kind of beige goat hair. When there’s a slight draft of air I can be forgiven for thinking that it was gleamed from the goat’s rear end and the goat was still attached. I really want to scratch my chin, but the students from Vernwood Institute have attached it with what appears to be superglue, I’m sure there was a tube of No Nails on the desk in front of me, damn students, should be behind the counter at Burger King where they belong.

The stump of his pipe he held in his teeth, and the smoke encircled his head like a holly wreath; He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

Nearly there now, only another six lines and I can slink off to the bar. There’s meant to be a revolving circle in the middle of this stage so that when I’ve finished and have milked the applause the next act will be revolved onto the stage. The whole programme is a little bit weird as the show opened with ‘Cheap Day Return’ a Jethro Tull tribute act singing ‘A Christmas Song’ then it’s me, being sodding jolly St Nick after which ‘Cheap Day Return’ will regale us with ‘Another Christmas Song’. With the greatest will in the world I want to be reaching tipsy by the time Nicole starts to talk to the dead and completely sloshed by the time ‘Cheap Day Return’ end the show with ‘Ring Out Solstice Bells’. I contemplate for a few seconds whether I would truly want to miss the awesome power of The Tumbling Thompsons and their mind reading Terrier, Mysterium, then quickly fall on the side of Stella and her Nectar of All Consuming Power.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk. Laying a finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; he sprang to his sleigh, to his team agave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

There’s a guy down there on the front row, a right twitchy sort. I can never be accused of snobbery, hell I’ll nick anybody that’s done wrong, but he looks rather underdressed to be at a function like this. His eyes betraying a comedown, or maybe just a natural dopiness. I think I know his face from somewhere, but I just can’t place it, there’s so much scum goes past my eyes in a day that they all begin to look the same.

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight, Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.

It ends, with a sigh of relief I stand up from my semi-circle of snotty kids and step forward for the applause. I think that the majority of the audience are just being polite and some of the teenagers are applauding for Nicole’s long legs. The rotund figure of Mayor Harlington bounds on to stage waving his arms and cheering in an attempt to disguise the fact that the rotating platform still isn’t working. From out of the corner of my I see the dopey greasy haired guy from the front row reach inside his coat, something metallic glitters and without thinking I push the mayor out of the way. As the mayor falls to the ground the serrated edge of a knife flies between us and lands with a dull thud at the back of the stage. I turn around and leap from the edge of the stage landing swiftly on the assailant, I’m sure that the sight of Detective Inspector Santa Claus will linger long in the memory of the on-looking children.

“You were lucky this time, don’t think there won’t be more to come,” Greasy shouts as security surrounds us.

“We’ll take it from here,” one of the guys said taking over from my grip on Greasy’s arms.

“Sure, no problem, just be sure to put him on the naughty list, ok,” I reply.

Nicole pounces at me with a mixture of fear, relief and pride wrapping her arms and legs around my pillow enhanced frame and planting a few kisses on my goat hair face. I turn around and give a quick wave to the crowd following it with a rather hearty…

“Merry Christmas To all and a welcome good night.”

Little Swan And The Jolly Snowman

Dawn slowly began to break on the riverbank. The clear skies and shining stars above had brought with it a harsh frost and the river had frozen.

Instead of the normal dark green grass that lined the side of the river the area was covered in a blanket of fresh white snow.

Little Swan shook her feathers as she stepped out from her nest and felt the cold beneath her feet.

“Ooh, my feet are all cold. A dip in the water will soon stop that.” Little Swan said slowly tiptoeing towards the river leaving little Swan footprints in the snow behind her.

She put one foot on the ice covered surface and slipped over landing on her bottom. She shivered and rubbed her feathers.

“It’s a good thing, Mobbie isn’t here to see this. He’d laugh at me.” Little Swan giggled to herself.

She heard a laugh, deep and hearty coming from close by. Little Swan looked around for the source of the laughter. She couldn’t see anything close by.

She tried again to walk along the ice and once again slipped over, this time landing on her front. She slid over to the bank and sat on the side brushing the frost and snowflakes from her feathers. Again she heard the sound of deep laughter.

“It’s not funny. It’s very cold slipping on the ice,” Little Swan shouted out upset.

“I’m sorry, I don’t man to laugh. But it is very funny,” someone shouted back.

Little Swan looked around and saw movement in the trees. Something round and white was hiding in between the bare branches.

“I can see you, you can stop hiding!” Little Swan shouted trying to be brave.

“Oh very well, you’ve caught me fair and square. I’m coming out,” the round shape chuckled as it left the trees.

Little Swan watched in amazement as two large round balls of snow shuffled out of the trees and onto the river bank. It had a large coal smile and looked back at her through a pair of old spectacles resting on a short fat carrot nose.

“You look surprised, my dear,” the Snowman said.

“I’ve never seen anything like you before, I am so sorry for staring,” Little Swan replied in amazement as the talking ball of snow.

“I very rarely get seen, I pass through unnoticed during the winter months.”

“And why do you have to sneak around everywhere? Is it a secret? I’m very good at keeping secrets,” Little Swan said slowly tiptoeing across the river trying very hard not to slip over.

“I know you are, I’ve been watching you,” The Snowman said reaching out with a stick hand and helping Little Swan onto the bank next to him.

“Really?” she said shaking snow from her feet.

“You are Little Swan?” The snowman asked taking a little blue notebook out of his pocket.

“That’s right. My friends call me Swannie. You can call me Swannie if you like.”

Little Swan smiled and tried to sneak a peek inside the Snowman’s notebook, eager to find out what was written inside. The Snowman made a little note and smiled at her.

“I’m a secret spy working on behalf of Father Christmas. It’s my job to help him write the naughty and nice list.”

Little Swan grinned at him and clapped her wings together in excitement. She had been told about Father Christmas when she was a baby. She had also been told that he only visited human children and was very disappointed.

“What are you doing around here? There aren’t any human children on the riverbank, especially at this time of morning,” she said.

The snowman let out a huge laugh that seemed to come from his belly, he made another note in his blue book and smiled at her.

“That’s true, Father Christmas does only bring presents to human children. But, you’ve caught his eye this year and sent me down to check on you to make sure that you were worthy.”

Little Swan grinned a bit more, she didn’t know what was going on, but had the feeling it was going to be good. The snowman reached inside his coat and pulled out a small box.

“What’s that?” Little Swan asked looking at the shiny purple wrapping paper and the red ribbon. There was a little gift tag tied on top, but she couldn’t see what it said.

“This, Swannie, is a gift just for you from Father Christmas. He has seen how brave you were rescuing your friend Mobbie from the water wheel and thinks you deserve a gift for your bravery.”

The Snowman handed the little box over to Little Swan. She started to untie the bow and ripped open the paper. She lifted the lid off the box and found a small silver locket inside. She smiled with joy.

“Oh thank you, it’s beautiful.”

Little Swan gave the Snowman a big hug and felt the cold against her feathers.

“It’s not me you have to thank,” the Snowman chuckled loudly, “It’s Father Christmas. It just goes to show, good deeds never go without a reward.”

The snowman laughed loud and long as Little Swan hung her new locket on her neck with pride. This was the best Christmas she’d ever had.

THE END