"Mummy?"

"Tell me, pupu."

"Is there really a Christmas Father?"

"Er... what do you mean?"

"My friends at school tell me there isn't... it's you and Daddy".

"Is that right?"

"Jien naf... you tell me".

"No, of course it isn't right, yes, there is a Christmas Father, you've seen him".

"I have?"

"Yes, walking up and down Republic Street making that godawful racket ringing his bell and yelling: 'Shop at Buybest'."

"That wasn't the Christmas Father."

"Who was it then?"

"It was the man who unblocked our drains, I recognised his trainers... and he recognised me".

"How do you know?"

"Cos he said: 'If your father doesn't pay me for unblocking his f****** drain, I'm coming round to your house with a truck-load of ready mix, to tip down your 'spection... Then we'll see who he gets to shift that bugger'."

"Er right... well, no, of course he wasn't the real Christmas Father. He was his... umm stand-in. I mean the real Christmas Father can't be everywhere, right?"

"You said it".

"So he needs some help, some assistants".

"Like the man who unblocks drains".

"Exactly. But the real... real Christmas Father is the one who shows up at Christmas, with his reindeer and his sleigh -"

"And there's another thing."

"What, pupu?"

"Will you kindly explain to me how one... repeat one, dangerously overweight geriatric in a flying sled, pulled by four past-their-sell-by-date reindeer - I mean, reindeer, for God's sake! Just explain to me how this poor old sod, in one night, can whiz round every house in every town, village and hamlet in the world, stopping off at every single dwelling, from palaces to mud huts, to shin down chimneys and stuff millions and millions of toys into oversize socks. Go on... explain that one!"

"Magic."

"Oh pleeeease!"

"Pupu, there are some things that are... well, beyond explanation, like: Is there really a tooth fairy? Are there mermaids and leprechauns? You just have to accept these things, OK?"

"No, it's not OK. My teacher keeps telling us to be rational and you start bleating about mermaids and the bloody tooth fairy. Oh yeah, and another thing. Let's dispense with common sense and rationale for the moment and come to the business of the dwarves and elves."

"What about them?"

"You're a reasonable and compassionate woman, what do you think of the working conditions of this legion... it has to be a legion, of disadvantaged and handicapped people?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean? We're talking exploitation here... on a gargantuan... a colossal scale! Think about it, you've got a workforce of... how many? Fifty... 60,000 vertically challenged skivvies, beavering away for eleven and three quarter months, churning out Barbies by the billion and skateboards by the squillion, in Dickensian working conditions up in the frozen north where it's pitch bloody dark for most of the year. Does Tony Zarb know about this?"

"Well I -"

"And yet another thing. What's all this garbage about the Christmas Father parking his sleigh on the roof, then shinning down the chimney with his bag of goodies."

"It's not garbage, sweetheart, it's what he does."

"Well, he'd have a nasty shock if he tried it in our house, cos as we all know that ornamental, rustic-style chimney that runs up the pine-end of our villa is precisely that... ornamental. If the poor old fart climbs down there, all he's going to find are a couple of dead pigeons and a brick wall."

"Ah yes, well, in our case Daddy leaves the front door open, so he can..."

"Oh really? Well that's not very bright, if I may say so. In this neck of the woods there's an average of two burglaries a night. How do we know whether it's Christmas Father stumbling about downstairs or a gang of thieves? Oh yes and -"

"Oh alright, alright! There is no Christmas Father... it's Daddy and me"!

"At last! That took some dragging out of you, didn't it? Right, here's my 2003 list... duly notarised... sign there. Good, I'll expect delivery in full on the 25th. A pleasure doing business with you, Mummy. Oh yeah: Merry Christmas."

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