Oh Santa!
When the main man goes off the rails, a long-suffering Mrs Claus is obliged to keep the show on the road…
It was late on Christmas Eve when Santa snatched up his phone which was chirruping away for the fifth time in the last hour.
“Yes?” he snapped. It was bound to be yet another problem which was going to make him even tetchier than he was already.
Mrs Claus, very aware that tonight her husband must be kind and jolly to all the children, sighed heavily. There’d been so many new Government rules introduced this year and Santa wasn’t too happy.
In the past it had all been so simple.
But now Rudolph’s nose was apparently not bright enough to lead the way so the sleigh had been fitted with dazzling LEDs.
It also had electronic chimes to replace the old rusting sleigh bells and had finally passed its MOT on the third attempt.
Blitzen and Prancer had dug their hooves in and refused to have their flu jabs and the elves, having attended a training course on how to use less plastic, were now demanding extra pay.
It had been one setback after another and Santa just couldn’t raise a festive smile as he wearily lowered himself into the sleigh ready for the long night ahead.
“Most of the children have emailed or WhatsApped this year,” Mrs Claus informed him.
She handed over an extensive list of names and addresses fresh from the printer. “So, make sure you don’t forget anyone!”
Santa nodded grumpily as he waved his red hat signalling to the reindeer that their journey must now begin. He loved to see all nine of them lift off gracefully as one, before transporting him away at speed into the cold, dark night.
Mrs Claus waved him off, and as she watched the twinkly sleigh, stacked with presents, grow smaller and smaller amongst the stars she couldn’t help a broad grin of satisfaction. She now had many hours to herself and was ready to indulge in some serious me-time.
Her slippers were nicely warmed in front of the fire.
She had a tempting array of expensive chocolates and a whole host of recorded TV programmes that she loved to watch but Santa didn’t.
The Christmas tree lights glowed softly as she snuggled on the sofa in her new Christmas onesie. She sighed happily at the thought of a very pleasant evening ahead.
But as she took the very first sip of her favourite Christmas tipple, she accidentally knocked a book from the arm of the sofa. Then she gasped in dismay as she spotted Santa’s specs lying forsaken on the floor.
Knowing how bumbling and utterly useless he was without them, she knew she had no option but to reluctantly haul herself up from the sofa and head outside into the cold.
The old, dusty emergency sleigh, modified by Santa with a lawn mower engine on the back and six small wheels, was propped up at the back of the garage. Batting away the cobwebs Mrs Claus remembered how it had always taken a great deal of sweat and tears to start it.
But she knew she must; tonight was a proper emergency.
So, when it finally coughed and spluttered into life fifteen minutes later, she punched the air with delight and then activated the tracking device on her phone to pinpoint Santa’s exact whereabouts.
That done, she lowered herself cautiously into the rickety old seat, tried to remember the controls and then tentatively pressed the throttle.
There was a slightly panicky delay before the emergency sleigh shot off on a white-knuckle ride leaving Mrs Claus rather startled and clinging on for dear life.
But she soon relaxed into it and realised that she’d actually forgotten how utterly exhilarating it was to zip through the night with just the moon and stars to light the way.
She eventually landed rather bumpily in a back garden, after locating Santa’s sleigh on a rooftop and went to tap on the front door just as it opened.
“Hello…” said a rather flushed lady, sporting a sparkly jumper, a wonky, flashing Santa hat and clutching a substantial bunch of mistletoe. “I’m Ivy!”
“Well, nice to meet you, Ivy…”
It was then that Mrs Claus heard Santa sneezing repeatedly; he always did that when she used too much fabric conditioner when she washed his red and white suit.
“Well, I’m Mrs Claus. Could I have a quick word with my husband, please?”
“Oh, yes, of course! This is just so thrilling!”
Ivy could barely contain her excitement; it was plain that too much Christmas wine had been consumed.
Santa appeared at the door a little unsteady and utterly confused to see his wife on the doorstep dressed in a colourful Christmas onesie…
“What on earth?” he spluttered, as his mouth dropped open in astonishment.
“I’m looking for you! You should be miles away by now!”
Mrs Claus raised a questioning eyebrow as she handed over his specs.
Ivy was now giggling girlishly.
“Well, Santa paid me a lovely surprise visit – even though I don’t actually have a chimney!”
Santa hadn’t the heart to explain that without his specs he had mis-read her house number, but the roaring log fire combined with the warm, spicy mulled wine and Ivy’s friendly welcome had lulled him into a very relaxed state indeed.
Mrs Claus, however, was fuming… Santa was clearly a little too tipsy to fly and with all those stockings waiting to be filled, she knew she must say a regretful goodbye to her one night off a year.
She quickly summoned all nine reindeer down from the roof, hopped into the sleigh and set the new satnav while Ivy bustled inside to pour more drinks and open a large tin of mince pies.
Santa was peering at his wife with amazement.
She did a quick check of the presents and settled comfily in her seat; the reindeer were raring to go and as they gracefully carried her off into the darkness, she couldn’t resist a jolly wave.
She hadn’t planned on the heavy snow falling. But the children were her priority tonight and she vowed she would soar above the rooftops and deliver all the gifts in record time.
If Santa wanted to get sozzled on Ivy’s mulled wine and strain the buttons on his already snug-fitting red and white suit by tucking into more mince pies, then that was his problem. Mrs Claus was on a mission!
The long night-time hours certainly raced by and her lengthy list eventually started to get shorter.
She hadn’t had one spare second to check her phone. When it buzzed later on and Santa’s name appeared on the screen, she was tempted to ignore it.
He was probably still getting plastered with Ivy. But when he persisted and the phone buzzed several more times, she really couldn’t be bothered to be angry any more.
“Hello, love.” Santa sounded sheepish. “How are you doing?”
“I’m just landing the sleigh for the last few deliveries.” Mrs Claus unsuccessfully stifled a yawn.
There was a short, loaded silence before Santa spoke.
“Um… please can you pick me up, then?” he asked, hesitantly. “Only I’m in a bit of a pickle…”
“Where are you?” asked his wife warily.
“I’m… um… at the police station…” mumbled Santa, meekly.
Mrs Claus felt a crushing wave of fatigue wash over her as she summoned up the energy to deliver her very last presents and then set the satnav for the police station.
Expertly landing the sleigh in the snowy car park, she couldn’t help wondering what on earth Santa had done. And why hadn’t he flown home in the emergency sleigh she had left behind?
Hopefully she would find out. She was shown into a small room where Santa was being questioned.
“So where were you off to, then, sir?” a kindly police constable was asking.
“Well… the North Pole, of course!” Santa raised his eyebrows. “Because that’s where I live!”
“Of course you do!” The officer was trying to smother a grin, “And I suppose you’re the real Santa Claus as well!”
“Yes, that’s obvious, isn’t it? I am the one and only!” Santa was always proud to declare his occupation.
“But they all say that, sir!” The constable had heard it all before. “And have you been drinking, sir?”
“Just a few glasses of mulled wine,” admitted Santa, truthfully.
“So, is that why were you driving an untaxed, uninsured vehicle on the pavement, sir?”
“But that’s my emergency sleigh,” explained Santa patiently.
“I was trying to get home and as Santa Claus, I am exempt from the law!”
But the policeman looked unconvinced. He led Santa away to be breath-tested and Mrs Claus anxiously scrolled through her phone.
It was two more hours before Santa was allowed to leave. As Mrs Claus flew him home to the North Pole he felt rather foolish as he recalled the evening’s events.
He’d narrowly escaped being enthusiastically seduced by Ivy. The emergency sleigh had been seized by the police and he’d been issued with a twelve-month drink-driving ban.
Mrs Claus had, in fact, called Ivy, who confirmed Santa’s identity by sending across numerous pictures of the twinkly sleigh, the rooftop, the reindeer and a close-up of her kissing him under the mistletoe.
The officer stifled a chuckle but still reminded Santa that due to the new Government guidelines, he was not excused from breaking any further laws in the future.
It was well into Christmas Day when they arrived home.
Mrs Claus was reeling with exhaustion as she flopped on the sofa. She’d almost nodded off when Santa appeared with two glasses of Champagne.
“Happy Christmas, sweetheart!”
Mrs Claus stared at her husband in astonishment as he suddenly dropped down on one knee and retrieved a small velvet box from his pocket.
“Santa, don’t be silly. What on earth are you…?”
“Well – that call I took as I was leaving last night,” explained Santa, “was to inform me that our small wedding on a glacier many years ago wasn’t legal.”
“What?” squawked Mrs Claus. “But we’ve been married for decades!
“No, don’t tell me… There’s a new Government ruling that Santa Claus must be properly married!”
But Santa shook his head, his eyes bright with mischief. He opened the velvet box to reveal the most hideous plastic ring from a cracker. He planted a lingering, tender kiss on his wife’s lips.
“Well? Will you marry me? A gorgeous ring of your choice will follow shortly!”
Mrs Claus thoughtfully twirled her champagne glass pretending to thoroughly consider this proposal.
“Yes, of course!” she exclaimed. She answered Santa’s beaming smile with a soppy grin as the elves and reindeer gathered round.
The sleigh was swiftly emptied of its bounty of sherry, mince pies and carrots and, with the volume ramped up on the Christmas music, the celebrations were soon rocking.
“Happy Christmas everybody!”
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