Even Santa can have a bad hair day
WITH the festive season uppermost in my mind, I decided to do the right thing, and look up some of my not so favourite rellies.
High on the list was my old Uncle Fred, who although he was never really acknowledged as the black sheep of the family could lay claim to being a dark grey one.
A connoisseur of the finer things in life including home brew, social security, and backing race horses that always seemed to run backwards, he was one that was usually overlooked, as far as introductions to important people were concerned.
But despite all this, I decided I should at least pass on Christmas cheer to the old reprobate.
I arrived at his house, and was greeted by an irate Auntie Nellie who directed me to the shed, to which Uncle Fred had been banished.
Having located him, surrounded by bottles of home brew, serenading him with the help of old 78s played on a wind up gramophone, I was quickly put into the picture as to the cause of his exile. His story was that he was offered the job as Santa Claus at the local shopping centre, but he decided that it would be more authentic if he arrived with some reindeer.
The idea was sound, but stray reindeer are pretty hard to come by, so, in desperation, he rang his cousin up the bush and arranged to borrow a horse for the occasion.
So the horse was delivered to his door, a poor moth-eaten nag that looked like he’d been on a starvation diet for a year.
Uncle Fred decided it needed a good feed to see it through the day, so he fed it up on lucerne.
Now my dear old uncle neglected the fact that what goes in must come out, and after a few hours the inevitable happened and the poor old neddy disgraced himself big time.
The crowd roared (some in disgust, and some in jubilation), with the result that the ensuing hullabaloo panicked the “reluctant reindeer”, which promptly bolted through the plate glass front of the lolly shop next door, much to the delight of a horde of kids who appeared from nowhere. So Auntie is faced with the cleaning bill for the centre, the cost of the window, and all the sweets consumed by the kids, plus the dry cleaning bill for the uniforms of two security officers, who slipped in the mess.
Any wonder old Fred’s in exile.