The Christmas Chronicles Part 1 – Santa Does Duty Free


Santa waits to board the Boeing 737 airbus that is scheduled to depart at 11:55 pm. His carry on case was dutifully stuffed into a metal rack to see if it exceeded the dimensions and then weighed before being  scrutinised by security.
Standing in the line he stretches his toes while inwardly thanking his darling Mother Christmas for darning and repairing his socks.  What would he do without her? Trying not to think of an actual answer to that one he watches closely as his black patent boots migrate on a journey of their own via a grey and rather dull looking plastictray into an x-ray machine.

The power hungry man tasked with such matters of close inspection requests that Santa remove his belt so it too can complete a grey tray journey of exploration – just in case the buckle has been sharpened just enough to poke the skin of a ‘ Santa’s little helper’ for not submitting to the  non contractual request to work an abundance of overtime despite being on a ‘zero hours contact’.  Don’t they know that  due to the season and all it’s a necessary obligation to get through the mountain of tasks before the 25th.

Santa stands there holding his trousers tightly in both hands. His signature red suit is at least two sizes too big this year thanks to ‘Magic Pillotion’.

‘Magic Pillotion’ is a fantastic new product available from all good stores, outlets and distributors – It’s easy! Just consume it instead of real food and after several weeks, Hey Presto you too can stand in an airport minus a belt and wish you had bought a suit that fitted!

Walking through the big arc of detection Santa jumps. God Damn it! The alarm has gone off again…every bloody year it’s the same.
He jumps just enough to release the grip on his trousers and they fall to the floor.  However, all modesty is not lost. The embarrassment is saved by the Rudolf pants….thank god for that.
Santa’s eyes migrate South to Rudolf’s face popping out from under his coat in glorious 3D. Inwardly breathing a sigh of relief, he thanks his lucky stars that he doesn’t have to brave the sleigh this year in arctic conditions. Anything less than ten degrees and the contour of Rudolf’s glowing nose would be lost.

Yes! Everyone should have a pair of seasonal boxer shorts thinks Santa, and he mentally makes a note to include them as a compulsory stocking filler for every male regardless of age, size or actual personal preference. A perfect solution Christmas theme.

Pulling his trousers back up and securing them withthe belt that had now been cleared of non pokeyness he thinks of poor Rudolf.
Rudolf, through no fault of his own was forced to eat some god-awful concoction of food by that Government department called DEFRA. The result? Well, let’s just say it wasn’t pretty and resorted to him being quarantined for months in a tiny little cage in the dar before being shot in the head and then burned on Guy Fawkes night…of all the nights.

Poor thing….Santa sighs before turning his thoughts to buying a ‘Happy Chicken’ for Christmas dinner this year.  Happy chickens, unlike Rudolf are not caged but instead have an extra 40 cm’s of space to roam in the sunshine before qualifying for a free range sticker which dutifully lets you know that the chicken was happy before it died and is probably even happier now that is going to have a hand full of sage and onion stuffed up it’s arse.

Oh well! All this disengagement with production can’t be helped thinks Santa as he retrieves his boots, tucks his darned sock ends under and finishes zipping up his boots. Feeling accomplished he begins striding to the VIP lounge. Oops, Silly me! I almost forgot my case.

He looks at the pile of cases accumulated at the bottom of the security conveyor belt. Santa glances left and right before a hint of recognition crosses his face – ah ha! There it is – so easy to spot…a lovely shade of red to match my suit complete with Coca Cola logo. Sponsorship! It’s the future you know.

His stomach rumbles…not wanting to risk bringing his Magic Pillotion through security – just in case he was mistaken for a trafficker he decides to eat some real food for a change.

Hmmm…what to have? Feeling proud of his weight loss he eyes the cakes greedily before ordering a large fresh cream bun

“ and to drink sir?”

“Ummm.. I’ll have a coffee please”

“What coffee sir?”

“just a regular coffee”

“Is that an espresso, a latte, cappuccino, mocha, frappuccino, macchiato, Irish or Filter”

“umm, umm, Ok give me a latte”

“Ok Sir, one Latte coming, do you want skimmed, semi-skimmed, full fat, soya, gluten free or organic?”

Jeez “I’ve changed my mind…I’ll have a brandy with ice,

“OK Sir that’ll be £49 please”

What! 49 quid for 3 millimetres of brandy and more ice than Iceland!!

Choosing to remain composed Santa pulls out a credit card. Admiring the shiny gold colour he hands it over to the attendant before thinking how festive and appropriate the colour is. It was so easy to get too! Just two minutes online and whoosh it arrived three days later all ready to go and better still they gave Mrs Christmas one for free.  Now, safe in the knowledge that when money was a bit short, instead of mending those old Christmas socks she would have the freedom to buy them on credit and worry about paying for them another day…perfect!

Walking towards the window, brandy and bun in hand Santa looks out at the lit up runway. There in all its glory stands the plane with big brilliant and bold letters…Brian Air

No two ways about it Brian Air is the only way to travel these days. Ok, admittedly the blue and yellow colour scheme is a bit tardy and clashes a little with the red – but when you’re on the verge of a Brexit recession who can be choosy right?  Besides, where else can you buy a million different scratch cards and perfumes at 3000 feet! Oh the joy of some spotty little twerp with a Dublin accent nudging you out of dribbling slumber to sell you a lottery ticket.

An announcement is made over the intercom. ‘All those who have upgraded to VIP boarding please make your way to the gate.’

Santa glances in amazement. Thinking he was the only one to have purchased a priority booking, he is a little stunned to see a queue as long as a Debenhams sale forming across the lounge.


Published by Somewhere Over the Olive Tree

Prolific second hand shopper, rubbish rumager and upcycler, that sees beauty where non exists. From Dolly the Vintage Caravan to Dream Catchers I find inspiration and creativity where it is practically non existent to most people's eyes. My creativity comes from an intention of reducing waste and helping the planet by reusing things people throw away. I have refurbished my whole home from 'rubbish' to demonstrate what can actually be achieved with a little imagination, patience and maybe a glass or two of whiskey. I also adore the simple things in life like looking at the mountains, playing with my dogs, cooking, sewing and dancing. You can find out more on SOMEWHERE OVER THE OLIVE TREE on Facebook

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