Operation ‘Finish the Job and Let’s Go Home’ commences.
After numerous calculations, Bambino has worked out that there are 26.9% of the
population yet to be visited by Father Christmas and there are two hours and three
minutes remaining to do the visiting if Father Christmas is to keep his promise
to Mrs Christmas and arrive home on time. Oh, and to avoid the huge wail of
disappointment that will resound around certain part of the world as dawn
breaks.
‘There are nine of us in total, so if we spread out and each
take a specified region, we can have this gig wrapped in less than an hour and
a half,’ says Bambino.
‘Woah, hang on a minute,’ says Mrs Pumphrey. ‘You want us
all to split up and do deliveries on our own?’
‘Yes,’ says Bambino. ‘It seems a sensible use of the people
power and time we have available to us. If you have a look at this time and
motion graph I’ve drawn up then…’
‘I can’t do THAT!’ says Mrs Pumphrey, who has anxiety issues
and is easily sent into a tailspin of panic. ‘I can’t find my way into our
local village and back without getting lost.’
‘I’ve not got a great sense of direction either,’ says
Ptolemy Pheasant. ‘They don’t call me ‘Zig-zag Scatterbrain’ for nothing, you
know. Perhaps Mrs Pumphrey and I could double up and keep each other safe?’
‘Well, if they are pairing up, then I want to pair up with
someone, too,’ says Mrs Slocombe. ‘But not with HIM,’ she adds, pointing at
Kenneth the Phantomime, who is busy adjusting his wedgie.
And so the kerfuffle grows, very quickly and very noisily,
as everyone seems to nay-say Bambino’s plan before it’s even been given a fair
go.
‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ says Father Christmas, once more
employing his booming voice to good effect. The fracas falls silent. ‘Really,
there is no need to panic. If you allow my clever feline friend to finish
outlining his plan, you will realise there is nothing to fear at all.’
‘Thank you, Da Big FC,’ says Bambino. ‘Please don’t worry,
everyone – no-one is going to get lost. I have more scientifically proven magic
up my sleeve.’
He has us all stand in a row and gives us each a little
Christmas stocking to hold. Father Christmas distributes the remaining contents
of his present sack amongst the stockings. Bambino then gives us each a red
button gadget. He then calls forth the reindeer who have been unhitched from
the sleigh harnesses by Father Christmas.
‘Think of the next part as a merry-go-round ride,’ says
Bambino. ‘Just hop on your reindeer, hang on tight and let them do the work.
I’ll programme the co-ordinates of the area you are each going to cover into
their reins and off you’ll go. All you need to do, each time your reindeer
stops, is to thrown the stocking down the chimney, press the red button gadget and
hang on tight because in 3.2 seconds you will be taking off for the next stop!’
‘So simple, yet so effective!’ says Father Christmas,
clapping his hands together and making a still edgy Mrs Pumphrey jump out of
her feathers.
‘I’m not very good at hanging on tight,’ says Kenneth the
Phantomime. ‘I have very flimsy wrists. What if I fall off and get eaten by a
crocodile in a swamp?’
Father Christmas and Bambino go into another huddle. They
emerge with a solution.
‘These are my emergency thermal sleep cocoons,’ says Father
Christmas, pulling a selection of large sleeping bags from the boot of his
sleigh. ‘Just in case the reindeer get cold. They’re a bit big – designed for
reindeer, you know, including legs and antlers, but I am sure they will do to
keep each of you safely on aboard your reindeer. We can strap the cocoons on tightly
and pop you all inside!’
So that is exactly what happens! Soon we are all sitting
safely and snugly in the thermal sleeping cocoons, gripping our stockings and
red button gadgets and bracing ourselves for the off.
‘I think you will all be back here within three quarters of
an hour to an hour and five minutes at the most,’ says Bambino, as he runs from
reindeer to reindeer, carefully tapping travel co-ordinates into their reins. And
then, before anyone can come up with any more excuses as to why this might be a
terrible idea, he slaps each reindeer on the rump and we all fly up into the
sky and off in different directions.
Father Christmas climbs into his sleigh ready to set it in
independent hover mode so he can contribute to the last few deliveries.
‘Well, that was a marvellous idea,’ he says, as Bambino
enters the final set of co-ordinates. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’
‘Any number of things,’ mutters Bambino, before climbing
onto the last reindeer and setting off himself.
Just over an hour later, by my watch anyway which really
doesn’t know now if it is coming or going, we are all returned safely to our
starting point by the wishing well in the very centre of England. We all have
exciting tales to tell about the things we have seen and heard and the
excitement is palpable as we chatter and try to outdo each other with the sheer
magnificence and daring of our individual, and quite heroic journeys. (The
Author would elucidate further but really cannot be arsed. Make up your own fun
adventures, why don’t you?)
But what we are all agreed upon is that we are pleased to be
able to make things up to Father Christmas by helping him to finish his
delivery round. We all cheer when Bambino holds up the map and ticks off the
remaining areas with his luminous green highlighter pen.
‘Let’s have a bit of a rest,’ says Father Christmas. ‘I
think we deserve it.’
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