The sleigh lands, Father Christmas leaps from the driving
seat and he and Bambino greet each other like old friends.
‘How is it going, old chap?’ says Father Christmas. ‘Are we
on schedule?’
‘Pretty much,’ says Bambino, and he and Father Christmas go
into a judgely huddle over the map and the mathematical equations.
I rush forward to happily greet the hens. I am keen to know
how they have been dealing with the visit of Inspector Spectre. However, I leap
backwards when Inspector Spectre emerges from the sleigh looking a bit
dishevelled and green around the gills because he isn’t the best of travellers.
I fear he has come to arrest me and cart me off to the clink. Even worse, that
the hens have grassed me up to save their own pimply skins.
‘It’s all right,’ says Mrs Miggins, seeing my alarm. ‘He’s
not really an police Inspector. He’s Kenneth the Phantomime. Look – he might
still be wearing his Inspector’s cloak but underneath he is wearing something
more, well, Phantomimish…’
And to illustrate the point, the Phantomime obligingly
swishes open his cloak to reveal an all-in-one animal print jumpsuit (leopard
spot) with matching faux fur trim (gold) and a sparkly belt (puce).
‘Ta-dah!’ he says, feeling better now the sleigh has landed
and his snakeskin booted feet are back on solid ground. (The snakeskin boots
are faux also – this is an animal-friendly Christmas Story. Mostly.) He feels
so more comfortable being able to strut his Lycra and Spandex stuff again.
‘Eeeuwwwww!’ comes the cry of revolt from all and one
present, at the visual fashion car crash that assaults their eyes. And then,
because cries of obvious revolt aren’t very kind, there is a rapid and clever turning of the exclamation into the
singing of, ‘Eeeeeuw….d better watch out, you’d better not cry, you’d better
not shout I’m telling you why – Santa Claus is coming to town!!!’ along with
some impromptu dancing and grooving!
‘Nice recovery,’ whispers Mrs Poo to Mrs Slocombe.
‘Well, it is Christmas,’ says Mrs Slocombe. ‘Besides,
whatever time of year it is, there is never any excuse to be unkind.’
I am relieved. What had become a nightmare evening has
turned out all right after all. As most things generally do.
Father Christmas and Bambino rejoin the group.
‘We have a plan,’ says Bambino.
‘Thanks to your clever red button gadget invention and the
3.2 second landing and take-off timer,’ says Father Christmas.
I look at Father Christmas in shock.
‘You mean Bambino Bobble Wilson is your official assistant?’
‘He most certainly is,’ says Father Christmas. ‘The clever
inventor of my new landing and take-off delivery system. Such genius!’
‘But we assumed it was him,’ says Mrs Poo, pointing at
Kenneth the Phantomime.
‘Goodness, no,’ says Father Christmas. ‘He interviewed for
the job, that’s true, but in the end I decided I couldn’t fit an ego of his
proportions into the sleigh. It would have been a tad too snug for my liking.’
Everyone looks at Kenneth the Phantomime who has the decency
to blush.
‘It’s true,’ he says. ‘I applied for the job, well, you know
times have been hard for performance artists recently so I couldn’t be picky.
But it was obvious that Bambino Bobble Wilson was the one with the scientific
talent for this position. So I went to my second interview which was the
Inspector Spectre gig. I wasn’t keen on the costume, even with the stripy
tights I pinched from the Father Christmas gig, but it paid well and I thought
it would be nice to play a serious role for a change, rather than my usual
flamboyant turn…’
‘Anyway,’ interrupts Father Christmas, because we all know
how the Phantomime can ramble on if he is given centre stage, ‘we need to deliver
the remainder of these presents, don’t we? We can’t waste any more time. The
sun will be rising soon and I did promise Mrs Christmas I’d be home on time
this year. Gather around everyone, and I’ll tell you what we are going to do.
This is going to be a group effort…’
I take a moment to look at Bambino with renewed admiration.
Whilst he has always been useful as a lap warmer, I never knew he was so clever
in other ways. He always gives such a good impression of being a bit of a
numpty.
Bambino, in turn, gives me a bit of a knowing wink.
‘PhD in Quantum Physics,’ he says.
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