PRANCER:  Hey, Rudy where’s the big man?

RUDOLPH:  In the can getting ready.

PRANCER: Does that mean what I think it means?

RUDOLPH: You betcha! Same as every year. A little fuel to get some extra mileage.

PRANCER: He’s gonna burn hisself out. The heavy stuff once every twelve months will kill ya.

RUDOLPH: He likes to snort the snow. Can’t stop him.  Helps him get the job done in record time.                       

PRANCER: It’ll freeze his brain! Remember last year. We whizzed round the world three times before we dropped off a present. We were going that fast me antlers blew off Took me six months to grow a new set. I’m bloody sure it won’t happen again.

RUDOLPH: Ach now Prancer didn’t the gifts get delivered and we were home for supper before we knew it.          

PRANCER: Aye, and some of the kids got their presents in the middle of the afternoon. They’re traumatised for life now. Having their lunch and a big fat man dressed in red flies down the chimney, lands on his bum on the fire, yells “Fuck me, that’s hot!” then face first on the living room carpet.  Lying there, smoke billowing out of his rear end. The parents didn’t know whether to render first aid or kick him in the head for burglary. To cap it all, he staggers up, yells “Mevvy Trismas” cause his front falsies had come loose and were lying on his chin. The wee ones screamed, thought it was Return of the Zombies.

RUDOLPH: I know! I know! He’ll be reined in this year, I promise.

PRANCER: It’s alright for you, Rudi, you’re his favourite because of your very shiny nose. Jesus, you’ve had songs written about you. Ask anyone to name another reindeer and they  struggle with mine. I’ve been called Platter, Pratter, Prickster and That Other One. The rest are not repeatable.

RUDOLPH: And how do you think I got this shiny nose eh? I’m confessing here. I’m a friggin’ alcoholic. All those shots of whiskey left out for the big man and him too stoned to drink it. So I have to. The kiddies would be disappointed if they thought Santa didn’t like it. All those homes, all that hard stuff, I’m weaving my way on auto pilot at the end of the night. I’m hooked now. There’s so much alcohol in me, my nose stays red from one Christmas to the next.

PRANCER: Ya poor sod. The sacrifice you make every year. Drinking all that full bodied, golden liquid. The warm glow spreading all over, warming the cockles of yer heart, while us poor pathetic creatures freeze their butts off behind you. You’re a joke, Rudi. Did ya ever consider pouring the stuff down the sink?  Would save you all that pain. Better still I’ll change places with ya,then my nose will go red and I’ll be Rudolph.  What do you say?

RUDOLPH: Bugger off, Prancer. I have to get your man out of the head.

 

SOUNDS OF SNIFFLING AND SNUFFLING FROM THE GENTS.

 

RUDOLPH: (singing)  Here we go! Here we go! Here we go!

OPENS BATHROOM DOOR.  SANTA IS SITTING ON FLOOR IN A PUDDLE OF MELTED SNOW, FULL RED SUIT, BLUE HANDS AND FACE, SHIVERING.

RUDOLPH: Right big man, pull yerself together. Kids are depending on you. No more snow. It’s freezing your faculties, Pal. You look like a Smurf.

SANTA:  Oh, Rudi, I can’t do it anymore. I’m finished. My brain’s turned to ice and my body’s slush melting away.

RUDOLPH: Not from where I’m standing, Fat Guy. Your gut’s as big as ever.

SANTA:Ach sure I’m a failure. Didn’t I give wee Alice Grimshaw a toy rifle for Christmas..

RUDOLPH: She’s a sergeant in the army now with the highest shooting score ever.

SANTA: Well, what about young Patrick McFarland. He got a makeup case and pink high heels.

RUDOLPH: Performed his first show with The Ladyboys last week.

SANTA: Joe McCrea from Belfast, gave him a bloody knife.

RUDOLPH: Martial arts expert teaching kids self defence.

SANTA: Lorna from Wales, crayons meant for her little sister.

RUDOLPH:  Drawings for children’s books. Happy and rich as Larry she is.

SANTA: Tracey and Stacey the Bronx twins. Matching cowboy outfits?

RUDOLPH: They have a lot of outfits now. And a lot of clients! High class hookers, 200 pounds a night!

SANTA: 200 quid! What do they do for that? And where do they live?

RUDOLPH: Santa!!!!

SANTA: O.K! O.K!  what about Lee Cheung from Singapore, I gave him an ironing board and toy iron.

RUDOLPH: Opened a drycleaners on his street and now owns about twenty round the country. See, no harm done, Big Lad!

SANTA: What about that young fella from the South. Wanted a bike, got a guitar.

RUDOLPH: Now that’s the best success story. He’s as famous as you are maybe even more. Do ye hear that singing “Blue Christmas”, that’s the man himself. An everlasting legend, just like you. He’ll sing “Here comes Santa Claus” as soon as you’re ready.

SANTA: You’re a tonic, Rudi. One more wee question. Whatever happened to that Irish boy and his Mammy. I mistakenly gave him a talking doll with instructions.

RUDOLPH: Well, he has a bigger talking doll but still needs instructions. Daniel’s still there trying to figure them out. The woman’s better off if he doesn’t. Right, Ho, Ho, Ho. Let’s Go, Go, Go! Short is the night! For our round the world flight! I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.

 

AND TO THE SOUNDS OF THE KING SINGING “ HERE COMES SANTA CLAUS THE TWO BOYOS HEAD FOR THE DOOR.