THE GREAT FATHER CHRISTMAS PUZZLE
Announcer: It's Christmas Eve at the Westhay Hotel for Untidy Girls. It's an unusual hotel, because none of the guests has to pay anything to stay at the hotel. What they don't yet know is this. When they are grown up, they will all have to come and work at the hotel as maids - tidying up after the next generation of untidy girls.
Anyway, it's Christmas Eve and the girls are hanging up their stockings. Some of them are happy and some of them are grumpy old bags. Here are two of them.
[enter Lucy and Binkey arguing]
Binkey: You don't really believe in Father Christmas do you? All that rubbish about reindeer and coming down chimneys when he's much too fat to get down a chimney, especially with a big sack and a reindeer.
Lucy: Of course I believe in Father Christmas, he always brings me presents. Last year I asked him specially for some felt pens and I got them in my stocking.
Binkey: How did you ask him, stupid?
Lucy: I wrote it down on a piece of paper and put it on the fire so it burnt.
Binkey: So how did he read it, if you burnt it?
Lucy: It's magic, cretin. It's all magic. If Father Christmas went to every house in the world, and climbed down every chimney, and stopped to eat the mince pie at the bottom of each chimney, he'd get very fat. And it would take him weeks to get round the whole world. He uses magic to do it all. Don't you believe in magic?
Binkey: Don't be an imbecile. Magic is only pretending to saw up old women on the Paul Daniels Show and things like that.
Lucy: No it's not, you great fat dum-dum. You talk just like a grown-up sometimes. Everything in the world works on magic. My great grandad can find water by walking round the garden with a bent stick. There's loads of things like that.
Binkey: Anyway, I'm going to hang up my stocking.
Lucy: Why, if you don't believe in Father Christmas?
Binkey: Because it always gets filled up anyway.
Lucy: Well, I hope it doesn't this time. It'll serve you right.
[They hang up their stockings and sing]
Lucy and Binkey: My sister, my sister
She's such a lousy pig
I hate her, I hate her
Her hair is just a wig.
My sister, my sister
She looks just like a poop.
I hate her, I hate her
She smells of cabbage soup.
Lucy: Santa's coming.
Binkey: No, he isn't.
Lucy: Santa's coming.
Binkey: No, he isn't.
Lucy: Tonight he'll bring our presents.
Binkey: You silly girl, you'll never understand.
[enter Father Christmas and a scruffy looking elf. Both are very cross].
Father Christmas: Will you hurry up you horrible little dwarf.
Elf: That's not very nice. You're supposed to be jolly and say ho-ho-ho all the time.
Father Christmas: Huh, you wouldn't say ho-ho-ho if you you were my size and had to squeeze up and down chimneys all the time and cuddle all those beastly little children in shops and schools before Christmas.
Elf: Well I have to carry this bloody sack, and it's heavy.
Father Christmas: Don't swear, you grumpy little gnome.
Elf: That's it, I'm going home. I want my mummy. I've got a stomach cake.
Father Christmas: Do you want to go to the lavatory?
Elf: No.
Father Christmas: Are you sure?
Elf: Yes.
Father Christmas: Right, let's get on with it. Tip out the presents.
[The elf tips them out on the floor].
Father Christmas: OK. Look at the list, dwarf. What did they ask for?
Elf: Well, Lucy asked for a pony.
Father Christmas: Great, how does she think I'm supposed to carry a horse. Give her a tangerine and a doll. What about this one?
Elf: Who, Binkey?
Father Christmas: Binkey? What a silly name. Let me smell her stocking. Hmmm. I can smell that she doesn't believe in me. . I'm fed up with leaving presents for girls who can't be bothered to believe in me. I'm going to write her a rude letter. Give me a pen shorty.
Elf: Don't call me shorty, and don't be horrid to her, it's Christmas.
Father Christmas: So what? I hate Christmas. I'm going to break the rules. Fill up her stocking.
[The elf stuffs some things in her stocking]
Father Christmas: Right, give me that.
[Father Christmas grabs the stocking and hits Binkey over the head with it until she wakes up.]
Binkey: [rubbing her eyes]: What is it, who are you?
Father Christmas: Who do you think I am, Mrs Mallabone?
Binkey: You're Father Christmas.
Father Christmas: And you don't believe in me, do you?
Binkey: I do, I do, I promise.
Father Christmas: Are you sure? Because, if you don't, I'll go on hitting you over the head with this stocking until you do.
Binkey: No, no, I do. I'm really sorry.
Father Christmas: All right, elf face, she believes in us. Let's get out.
[Father Christmas and the Elf grab their things and disappear].
Binkey [calling to Lucy]: Lucy, Lucy. Wake up. Guess what?
Lucy:[half awake]: What?
Binkey: Father Christmas just hit me over the head with my stocking.
Lucy: Serves you right, now go to sleep.
Binkey: Oh well, good night.
THE END