A Child's Christmases in Wales Page #3

Why don't you just wait till after

Christmas? No-one notices them.

You want people to think

we like walking around up to our ankles

in forest? What are we, bears?

Might as well be

talking to myself here.

Right, I've put bleach in the toilet

so try and hold it in, please.

And no going in the fridge.

What, no peeing in the fridge?

What were you watching?

The Snowman.

What happened?

Kid builds a snowman,

they fly about, it melts.

Any good?

Didn't think much of it,

to be honest. Far-fetched.

Here come the Cadwaladr boys.

Mmm. Looks like they've been recruiting.

God rest ye merry, gentlemen

Let nothing you dismay...

If they upset your Nativity,

Owen, I'll castrate them.

I'll go out and make sure they

only sing the one song this year.

We're not made of money.

- Plus 45p VAT.

- VAT?

We're trading as a limited company

these days. It's more tax-efficient.

Don't I pay enough rates as it is?!

Merry Christmas! See you next year.

We'll confirm in November.

We're widening our catchment area,

so it could be any time

from the 23rd onwards.

Merry Christmas.

Right, boys, Gregory Street.

Once In Royal David's City.

Let's go'. Let's go'.!

As always,

Uncle Huw and Maurice had brought

the next big thing with them.

The year before they'd given me

a truck that turned into a rebut.

Didn't think much of it.

Impractical.

I did try to get hold of you to see

if you wanted anything,

but, obviously,

you still don't have a telephone.

Well, Geraint still doesn't see the point.

Phone box up the hill still works

perfectly well, thank you very much.

What about that time

those lads jammed an Opal Fruit

in the coin slot?

- We couldn't call anyone for a month!

- No-one died.

My Auntie Rita did!

We missed the funeral!

All right, one person died.

You really should get

one fitted, Geraint.

- Gorwel...

- Huw.

You call someone,

they charge you for it.

You call someone else,

they charge you for that. Never ends.

You're behind the times, Geraint.

We live in a capitalist society now.

You wait till Kinnock gets in.

Conservatives'll be back.

Over my dead body.

I don't know one person

in this town who votes Tory.

They reckon under the Tories

we've all got a lot more

income than before.

- We can afford more luxury goods.

- Oh, I love a luxury good.

Nonsense, "luxury goods".

Machine that washes dishes,

computers, phone line in every

house. What is this, Dallas?

I don't care who it is,

Labour or the flaming Tories!

They're all the bloody same,

isn't it, these politicians?!

Whether it's Thatcher or the ginge,

I'll still be sleeping in a beach hut,

living off Coco Pops!

No-one cares for the working man!

Yes, but you're not a working man,

though, are you, Gorwel.

You haven't got a job.

No, I... I suppose not.

No.

- Who's having a whisky, then?

- You are, I imagine.

Anyway, another good year.

The highlight, of course,

was thoroughly shafting his mother

in the courtrooms.

Normally it's the mum

that gets the upper hand in court,

but not this time. Bang!

I get custody!

Bang! She's gets rented accommodation,

eh, kiddo? Eh?

She hasn't got her own

bathroom any more, has she, eh? Eh?

You're a bit quiet, there, Maurice.

All right, son?

Course he's all right.

- He's doing excellently at school.

- So's Owen.

Maurice captained the Meccano team.

Owen got to the quarterfinals of

Plasticine '86, didn't you, pal?

Maurice's teacher says that he's not

showing any ill-effects at all

from being in a one-parent family.

Didn't she, Maurice?

Maurice!

Maurice was as quiet as usual.

But he'd started to seem

a bit more threatening.

I decided it might be an idea

to stay on his good side.

Going through one of those phases.

You know,

it's... what they're like. They, er...

First of all they idolize you,

then they react against you.

When exactly did

he idolize you, Huw?

Until he started listening to that...

homosexual music.

He loves his art and

his woodwork, that boy.

That Nativity scene's

his pride and joy.

- Obsessed with it, isn't he?

- Yes.

Why'd you make that?

Got me out of playing rugby.

- Still believe in Father Christmas?

- Dunno. Do you?

I dunno.

My father said he doesn't

come round our house.

He said,

"I'm not letting some git

with a white beard get all the credit.

"I sold a lot of rugs to

get you that train set."

Trouble with art, though,

- there's no money in it.

- Oh, there's money in it if you steal it.

Me and some of the boys looked

into nicking the Mona Lisa-

Down Paris, like.

Swines have got it behind a screen now.

Spoilsports.

Anyway... I bet you're wondering

what's in that box.

Well, this year, I decided to get you

a little Christmas Eve present.

This is an artificial tree.

What's the point of that?

No more pine needles on the floor, Bren,

messing up the carpets.

Oh, d'you know,

I've been on at Geraint to do something

about the pine needle problem for years.

Well, eventually, they reckon these

will replace real trees in forests.

Oh, really?!

And no smell.

Beautiful.

Right. just turn it 30 to 35 degrees

anticlockwise. No, anticlockwise.

I don't understand

why we can't just have both trees.

You want people to think

that we're so greedy we have two trees?

What are we, an arboretum?

This is going to be my year, this.

I can feel it.

100 quid on a white Christmas.

One flake of snow falls tomorrow...

Hello! A grand, like.

Where did you get 100?

I got one of those business loans

off the social.

I told them I wanted a hundred quid

to start a DIY company.

So, you defrauded the social services.

Well, it was half-true, like.

I did want a hundred quid.

Anyway, snow comes down overnight,

I've got the equipment

to deal with it.

Who's having a whisky?

You are, I imagine.

What's "castrate" mean?

Sorry, Owen?

You said you'd castrate

whoever knocked over my Nativity.

- What's "castrate" mean?

- Well, it's, erm...

Well, it's, erm...

It's, er...

- Like a haircut.

- Yeah, it's, er... your hair...

Nice one.

Except for your knackers.

A'r gath wedi sgrapo Joni bach.

Oi! Oi!

Sosban fach yn berwi ar y tn

Sosban fawr yn berwi ar y llawr

A'r gath wedi sgrapo Joni bach...

Oi! Oi! Oi!

Hey, we've not heard

a peep out of them all night.

I bet you they're up there

plotting something now, eh?

Hang the Dj

Hang the Dj

...

It's stupid, Christmas. We're all

just going to die in the end anyway.

Maurice had started talking

quite a bit about death.

On the whole, I think I preferred it

when he didn't say anything.

Bum.

...She just said

it was three times in four years.

All right, let's go for it.

Ready? One, two, three!

Garrr!

Oh, yes!

That's four times in five years.

All right, there we are.

Could have made a few quid

out of that stuff.

Never mind.

Roll on next year, I'll have you.

Well, now, who wants some more potatoes?

Aw, no, thanks.

- I've got 67 left.

- Ah, Brenda, please.

I'll take a doggy bag off you,

if that's all right, Bren?

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