Get Santa Page #2

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A man in his 60s, claiming to be

none other than Father Christmas,

broke into Battersea Dogs Home,

where the reindeer are being housed,

and tried to catapult them

over the fence.

#looks like Santa will be

spending Christmas in prison.

But don't worry, kids.

He's not the real Santa.

How do we know?

Because Santa's reindeer can fly.

Ten sticks of rock.

As a matter of fact,

they're called candy canes.

Ten sticks of rock.

- Letters.

- Forty-one.

Forty-one letters.

Oi, pops!

What am I getting for Christmas?

Send him a letter

like everyone else!

All right, lads, leave it out.

Oi, Santa! Are you gonna

escape up the chimney?

Eh?

Right, stop. This one. This one.

I'd get changed if I was you.

You can't keep me in here.

Room not to your liking, sir?

Oh, wait, I do apologise,

but all the sea-view rooms are taken.

Officer, please,

this is very, very important.

You have to let me out of here

or Christmas will be cancelled.

Hello, mate.

Take me to see Santa

or I'm not coming.

That's the deal. Take it or leave it.

I'll take it.

When are you going to

get rid of this old banger?

Oh, now, now.

This old banger treated us well.

- I made you both a packed lunch.

- Thank you.

- Have fun.

- We will.

Thank you.

Bye.

Love you.

I'm sorry about last night.

So, do you wanna go and see

Father Christmas?

What do you say we swing by Harrods?

Santa's in prison.

What? No. No. We can't go and see

that old fruitcake from last night.

He's not a fruitcake.

Well, he's definitely a few fries short

of a Happy Meal.

He's Santa.

Look, Tom, I can't get us into prison

to go and see him.

It's not possible. I'm sorry.

No, wait, wait, wait.

There might be a way.

Table six. You've got five minutes.

Right, I'll tell you what.

If I... When I prove

that he's not Father Christmas,

can we just forget all of this

and have a nice day together? Mm?

OK.

Oh.

Thank you for coming.

This place is horrible.

Yeah, well, it's not

a holiday camp, Nick.

- You know my name.

- I worked it out.

- How?

- Well, I thought of Saint Nicholas,

and then I abbreviated it to Saint Nick.

And then, I took away the "Saint".

That's exactly how I came to it.

Oh, wow! What do you know?

I tried other more elaborate names,

but that one seemed to stick.

- We've come to rescue you.

- Thank goodness.

Yeah, we thought we'd free your

reindeer and fly in and pick you up.

No, that wouldn't work because

the reindeer can't actually fly.

I mean, not by themselves, but...

Well, it's complicated.

But if you find the sleigh,

I mean, provided it's not broken,

then you might be able to.

Are you on medication?

Or worse, are you not on medication?

Ho, ho, ho!

- You still don't believe I'm Santa.

- Do you wanna know why?

- Because I'm 30.

- But once you were seven.

Yeah, and I saw a shooting star.

Tell me something I don't know.

It was an exceptionally cold

Christmas night.

Your parents were drunk.

They'd been rowing.

- My parents got divorced.

- This was their last Christmas together.

You ran out into the back garden.

You were crying.

You heard a noise

in the skies above you.

The sound of bells, sleigh bells,

and that's when you saw me.

You knew it wasn't a shooting star.

That's just what your mother told you.

But you had proof.

You found a gift in the garden,

a gift that I had left for you.

What was it? Do you remember?

Why don't you tell me?

It was the most popular gift of that year.

A Rubik's cube.

You still have it, don't you?

Not because of me. Oh, no.

No, you kept it because that was

the last family Christmas you ever had.

How do you know that?

Because he's Santa.

Deep in your heart, you know who I am.

Deep in my heart, you're a nutbag.

The reindeer have been moved

to a private area in Richmond Park.

Go there. Seek out Dasher.

He knows what to do.

- Dasher speaks?

- He communicates.

Right, that's it, I've had enough of this.

We haven't seen each other

in a very long time, OK?

And I wouldn't ask this if it wasn't

the most important job in the world.

- Come on, we're going.

- We had a deal.

What, you wanna spend our day

looking for a talking reindeer?

- Yes.

- OK, then, that's what we'll do.

- Thank you.

- No, thank you.

- Come on.

- One more thing.

How do I survive in this place?

Erm, stop pretending

to be Father Christmas.

Steve.

Go and see the barber.

- Er, I can't change my look.

- For advice.

Tell him I sent you.

Excuse me. Are you the barber?

- No, I'm the vet.

- They keep animals here?

Yeah, they keep

all sorts of animals in here.

Do they keep reindeer?

- Are you trying to be funny?

- No, I'm trying to find the barber.

It's pretty obvious

I'm the barber, isn't it?

Steve Anderson said

you'd be able to help me.

- You know Steve?

- I know Steve very well.

- Do one.

- Eh?

Do one.

Any friend of Steve's a friend of mine.

Oh, that's great news!

A friend is exactly what I need.

What can I do for you?

Well, it's rather a long story.

Take a seat, pops.

The one thing we've got in here is time.

Well, I was born in Lapland

a long time ago.

Neighbourhood I grew up in

was a small town

in the Laughing Valley of Hohaho.

Although my childhood was happy,

one day an old woodcutter told me

about all the poverty in the world.

And I was so shocked

that I went straight to Elf City.

Now, the elves are wonderful

toy makers, as you know.

So I went there with a mission,

that on Christmas morning,

from that day forth,

every child would get a toy.

I know what you're thinking.

Where do the reindeer come in?

Right, so there's six reindeer,

and they all look like, er, reindeer.

None of them appear to be talking,

but... No, hang on, one second.

Oh, no, he's just eating grass.

Why are you acting like an idiot, Steve?

You know, it wouldn't hurt you

to call me Dad once in a while,

cos, like it or lump it, that's what I am.

Lump it.

You're not going over the fence.

Get off the fence.

Oi, you're not climbing over the fence.

Right, that's it, mister. Me and you

are now officially no longer friends.

So, as we speak,

Steve and his son Tom

are rescuing my head reindeer, Dasher,

who will then lead them

to my new magic sleigh.

They will then be able to fly in

and spring me from prison.

Well, me first advice is

don't tell anyone about this.

- Yeah, not in here.

- OK.

In fact, I think it might be better

if we create a whole

new back story for you.

You know, one where you won't end up

in a psychiatric unit.

- You don't think they'll believe me?

- I'm positive they won't.

So instead of "Santa Claus",

let's pretend your name's,

I don't know, something like

Mad Jimmy Claws.

You're a veteran safe cracker,

bank robber, all-round bad guy.

Mad Jimmy Claws?

Yeah. Do you like it?

- I think it's horrible.

- It's supposed to be.

Show me your gangster face.

- My what?

- Your mean face.

Hmm?

Now, if you're gonna be

Mad Jimmy Claws, you've gotta be...

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