by Terry Deary
“Humph!” Rudolph the Red grunted. He didn’t fancy shifting snow and he didn’t want Gertrude the Green’s mother coming to tea. “That’s not snow. It’s rain!” he argued.
“But it’s white and fluffy and drifting,” Gertrude the Green tried to tell him.
Rudolph the Red hid behind his newspaper and snapped, “It’s rain!”
Gertrude the Green became quite angry. “Gertrude the Green knows snow, darling!”
“Yes,” retorted her husband. “And Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear!”
“What a great title for a song!” Gertrude the Green exclaimed.
Of course Rudolph is the most famous of Father Christmas’ reindeer. Not many people know that he’s always getting lost. In fact, he was lost when Gnorman the Gnome first came across him . . .
Gnorman the Gnome went to Father Christmas and said, “Father Christmas! I’ve just found this red-nosed reindeer wandering around outside.”
“Ah!” Father Christmas exclaimed. “Take him down to the Greenland zoo, eh Gnorman?”
And off went Gnorman.
But the next day Father Christmas saw Gnorman with the red-nosed reindeer trotting behind. “I thought I told you to take that reindeer to the zoo, Gnorman!”
“Yes, I took him yesterday,” Gnorman answered. “And he liked it so much that I’m taking him to the circus today and the cinema tomorrow!”
GNELLIE:
You don’t see many reindeer in zoos, do you?
GNANCY:
No. They can’t afford the admission.
FATHER
CHRISTMAS:
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer’s gone missing again, Gnocker. Put a “Missing” advert in the local paper!
GNOCKER:
Don’t be daft. Reindeer can’t read!
GNANCY:
Tell me, Gnigel, how would you get four reindeer in a car?
GNIGEL:
I don’t know, Gnancy, how would you get four reindeer in a car?
GNANCY:
Two in the front and two in the back!
GNIGEL:
And how do you get four polar bears in a car?
GNANCY:
Take the reindeer out first.
Most people imagine that it’s easy flying through the air with Father Christmas to deliver all those presents. But, if truth were told, Father Christmas is not too good a driver and we have some pretty scary times, I can tell you . . .
I remember when Father Christmas first passed his sleigh-driving test. He came skidding down in front of the toy factory.
“Have you passed?” Gneil asked.
Father Christmas pointed proudly to the front of the sleigh. “See for yourself!” he called proudly. “No-el plates!”
He was a terrible driver at first. We had a reindeer who always crashed . . . so we called him “Rex”.
One snowy night Father Christmas checked the sledge. “Are my indicators working, Gnora?” he asked, flicking the switch.
“Yes – no – yes – no – yes – no – yes – no!” Gnora replied.
“I think I’ll have to take this sledge for a service,” Father Christmas sighed.
“You’d never get it up the church steps,” Gnellie told him.
He’d gone no further than Greenland motorway when he broke down. He flagged down a passing motorist and asked, “Can you help me fix my sledge?”
“Sorry,” the motorist replied. “I’m not a mechanic – I’m a chiropodist.”
“Well, can you give me a toe?”
Now Father Christmas was late. He managed to fix his sleigh, and raced across the sky till he was stopped by a policeman in a helicopter – from the Flying Squad! “I have reason to believe you were exceeding the speed limit,” the policeman said.
“I wasn’t!” Father Christmas lied. “But I passed two fellers who were!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the policeman went on. “I’ll have to ask you to accompany me!”
Father Christmas took a guitar from a sack and said, “Certainly, officer, what would you like to sing?”
“I’d like you to accompany me to the station,” the policeman said.
“Why? Are you catching a train?”
“I mean the police station,” the policeman said.
“Where’s that?” Father Christmas asked.
“In the Avenue.”
“Which avenue?”
“’ElLo, ’ello, ’ello, let’s-be avenue!”
At the police station Father Christmas was asked if he knew he was going up a one-way street.
“But I was only going one way!” he argued.
“Didn’t you see the arrows?”
“Arrows! I didn’t even see the Indians!”
“And what gear were you in when you hit those penguins?”
“Oh,” Father Christmas told him. “The usual gear. Red suit, trimmed with white fur, and black boots!”
“I’ll have to lock you up for the night, Father Christmas,” the policeman said.
“What’s the charge?”
“Oh, there’s no charge. It’s all part of the service!”
Father Christmas was so late delivering presents that he ran out of reindeer juice and started to crash-land.
“May-day! May-day!” Father Christmas cried into his radio. “Come in, control! I am crashing! I repeat, I am crashing!”
“Control here, control here!” came the reply. “Father Christmas, please state your height and position!”
“Er, five foot eight and about six foot behind Rudolph’s bum!”
Father Christmas was late home that year. He let the reindeer back into their stalls to play . . .
GNOCKER:
What game do reindeer play in their stalls?
GNEIL:
Stable-tennis, of course!
Gnora wanted to let Rudolph into the house . . .
GNELLIE:
Keep that reindeer out of the house! It’s full of fleas!
GNORA:
You’d better stay out of the house, Rudolph - it’s full of fleas.
So Gnora took Rudolph back to the stalls and they pulled Christmas crackers with the world’s worst jokes . . .
GNORA:
What reindeer can jump higher than a house?
RUDOLPH:
They all can! Houses can’t jump!
GNORA:
Why are Father Christmas’ rein-deer like a cricket match?
RUDOLPH:
Because they’re both stopped by the rein.
GNORA:
What has antlers, pulls Father Christmas’ sleigh and is made of cement?
RUDOLPH:
I don’t know.
GNORA:
A reindeer!
RUDOLPH:
What about the cement?
GNORA:
I just threw that in to make it hard.
GNORA:
What’s the difference between a reindeer and a snowball?
RUDOLPH:
They’re both brown, except the snowball.
GNORA:
Why don’t Prancer and Dancer and the other reindeer overtake you, Rudolph?
RUDOLPH:
Because they don’t believe in passing the buck!
GNORA:
What bird can write under the Arctic Ocean?
RUDOLPH:
A ball-point pen-guin.
GNORA:
Why don’t the polar bears eat the penguins?
RUDOLPH:
Because they can’t get the silver paper off!
GNORA:
One last reindeer joke, then it’s your turn, Rudolph. What has antlers and loves cheese?
RUDOLPH:
Mickey Moose!
RUDOLPH:
What did the beaver say to the Christmas tree?
GNORA:
It’s been nice gnawing you
!
RUDOLPH:
What bird gasps and pants at the North Pole?
GNORA:
A puffin.
RUDOLPH:
How do you get milk from a polar bear?
GNORA:
Rob its fridge and run like mad.
RUDOLPH:
What do you call Christmas ducks?
GNORA:
Christmas quackers.
RUDOLPH:
And what happens when they fly upside down?
GNORA:
They quack up!
RUDOLPH:
What do you call a cow at the North Pole?
GNORA:
An eski-moo!
RUDOLPH:
I’ll bet you can’t tell me where my mother comes from!
GNORA:
Alaska!
RUDOLPH:
That’s cheating!
ON THE TWELFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE SENT TO ME
TWELVE FATHER CHRISTMASES
When all the presents are delivered, Father Christmas likes to relax. In fact he goes to bed after Christmas and sets the alarm for Easter. And he doesn’t like to be disturbed . . .
GNIGEL:
Father Christmas, there’s a bird at the door with a yellow bill.
FATHER
CHRISTMAS:
I don’t care what colour its bill is, I’m not paying it!
GNORA:
Father Christmas, there’s a man at the door with a wooden leg!
FATHER
CHRISTMAS:
Tell him to hop it!
So, you see, Father Christmas is far from perfect . . .
GNORMAN:
What rides a sleigh, gives lots of presents and has plenty of faults?
GNELLIE:
Santa Flaws.
GNEIL:
I remember when a lady wanted a new nightie for Christmas and asked Father Christmas for something cool and white.
GNOCKER:
So he gave her a fridge!
GNEIL:
And the time Father Christmas buried some potatoes two metres under the North Pole with a packet of razor blades.
GNOCKER:
Said he was trying to grow frozen chips.
GNORMAN:
What about the time when Father Christmas ran over that lady’s cat? He went to her door to apologize and said, “Do you think I could replace it?”
“I don’t know,” the woman sniffed. “How good are you at catching mice?”
GNOCKER:
Father Christmas once came down in the South Seas and had to deliver presents on the back of a huge fish.
GNEIL:
An accident?
GNOCKER:
No. He did it on porpoise.
GNIGEL:
Then there was the time Father Christmas lost his underpants.
GNORA:
That’s how he got the name Saint Knickerless!
GNELLIE:
Is it true that Father Christmas fought for Drake against the Spanish Armada?
GNEIL:
He was certainly at Plymouth Ho-ho-ho!
GNANCY:
That reminds me. What goes Ho-squelch, Ho-squelch, Ho-squelch?
GNOCKER:
Father Christmas with snow in his wellies.
GNANCY:
And what goes Ho-squelch, Ho-squelch, Ho-squelch, BANG?
GNOCKER:
Father Christmas with snow in his wellies in a minefield!
GNANCY:
And what goes Oh! Oh! Oh?
GNOCKER:
Father Christmas walking backwards.
Father Christmas is very easy to spot . . . fat, with snowy hair and a red suit, flying round the sky on a sleigh. But surprisingly few people see him.
GNIGEL: A group of mountain climbers once heard Father Christmas go past.
GNORMAN:
They must have had sharp ears!
GNIGEL:
Of course. They were mountain-ears!
GNORA:
Mind you, Father Christmas has tried to do something about his bald patch. He went to Doctor Weirdly to get a hair restorer. The doctor said, “I have some good news and some bad news! The bad news is that I can’t make hair grow on your head . . . but the good news is that I can shrink your head so the little bit you have got fits!”
GNELLIE:
And of course he gets his clothes cheap.
GNEIL:
He certainly gets them for a ridiculous figure.
GNELLIE:
Did you know that Father Christmas once climbed on a “Speak-your-weight” machine?
GNEIL:
And the machine said “One at a time please!”
We gnomes can be very cruel about Father Christmas at times. Last Christmas he was asked to do a lot of television adverts. When he got back to the North Pole he asked us:
“Did you see me?”
“On and off,” we said.
“And how did you like me?”
“Off!” we told him.
But Father Christmas’ worst gnome is Gnigel . . . because Gnigel is so stupid. He always has been.
GNORMAN:
He thought “Illegal” was a sick bird.
GNELLIE:
He thought “Backgammon” was a pig’s behind.
GNEIL:
He had a zebra and he called it “Spot”.
GNOCKER:
When he was asked to do a bird impression he ate a plate full of worms!
GNANCY:
And when a cake recipe said “Separate two eggs” he put one in the kitchen and one in the bedroom.
Gnigel was trouble at school . . .
TEACHER:
Gnellie, what is a comet?
GNELLIE:
A star with a tail, sir.
TEACHER:
Gnigel, name a comet.
GNIGEL:
Er . . . Lassie, sir!
TEACHER:
Unlock the piano lid, Gnigel.
GNIGEL:
I can’t, sir. All the keys are inside!
TEACHER:
Gnigel, use the word “Gladiator” in a sentence.
GNIGEL:
My chicken stopped laying eggs so I’m glad-i-ator!
TEACHER:
Gnigel. You have your wellies on the wrong feet!
GNIGEL:
They’re the only feet I’ve got, sir!
TEACHER:
Show our guest the door, Gnigel.
GNIGEL:
It’s that wooden thing over there, missus!
And Gnigel was trouble when he left school . . .
He went to work for the North Pole weather service. His first caller said, “What’s the chance of a shower?”
Gnigel replied, “Fine if you have enough hot water!”
So he went to work for a glazier. The trouble was he couldn’t tell putty from toothpaste. Not only did his teeth stick together but all the windows he fitted fell out!
Gnigel went to work for a forester. “What’s the outside of a Christmas tree called?” the forester asked.
“Dunno,” Gnigel replied.
“Bark,” the forester said.
“O.K. Woof! Woof!” Gnigel went.
He tried to become a long distance swimmer.But he got halfway across the English Channel, decided he couldn’t make it and swam back.
Even when he had good luck he was too daft to make the most of it . . .
One day Gnigel met a Christmas fairy in the forest. The fairy liked the look of Gnigel so she said, “Little Gnome, I grant you three wishes!”
“Ooh! I’d like a can of Coke!”Gnigel gasped.
“Your wish is my command!” the fairy said and a large can of Coke appeared in front of Gnigel. It was delicious. “What is more,” the fairy said. “It is magic. Every time it empties, it fills itself up again! Now what are your next two wishes?”
“That can�
�s brill!” Gnigel cried. “I’ll have another two of those!”
He once went to the doctor. “I’ve got a splitting headache,” he complained . . . so the doctor gave him a tube of glue.
“How long can a gnome live without a brain?” Gnigel asked.
“I don’t know. How old are you?”
“I keep thinking I’m a chicken,” Gnigel complained.
“I can cure that,” the doctor offered.
“Oh no!” Gnigel cried. “My mother needs the eggs!”
“My mother says she has an IQ of 100,” Gnigel claimed. “What’s an IQ of 100?”
“A hundred gnomes like you,” the doctor explained.
Gnigel took his comb to the dentist because its teeth were falling out!
