Goodbye, yellow toll road...
Santa puts together some mighty fine gifts for some mighty South Africans...
The old man ran his fingers through his white beard as he looked at the setting sun. He could take down the umbrella now and he’d probably have to put a shirt on over his swimming trunks.
As he got off the sun lounger, he picked up the remains of the pina colada in the tall glass. It didn’t seem that long ago that they used to sit around a roaring fire on the ice, drinking strong Finnish vodka. Oh well, I suppose that Greta kid was right. The Arctic couldn’t last forever.
That brought him on to his next thought. That American politician said the world only has 12 years left – so he had put in for early retirement (normally Father Christmas could work well into his 80s) and intended to take his pension and spend it on wine, women and song. The rest he would waste…
But there was still 2019 to get through. He saw the Chief Elf walking over.
“Okay – let’s have a look at the presents for South Africa…”
The Chief Elf said: “Boss, remember we put the process on to computer a few years ago because we weren’t getting any more letters from there any more. Apparently, their Post Office is not that good...”
Santa Claus nodded: “But didn’t the computer struggle? When it came to figuring out South Africa, didn’t it blow its logic circuits?”
Chief Elf said: “Correct, but now we are doing things their way. We just don’t think too much about it and, like them, we blame someone else and just drink …”
First up – an Elton John gift set for Fikile Mbalula, the transport minister.
“He’s already got the outrageous sunglasses and the silly hats, but he really needs those sequinned electric boots,” said the Chief Elf. “What’s the USB stick for?” asked Santa. “We added a new version of one of Elton’s songs for him,” Elf said as he put the device into a music centre. Soon sounds wafted over them:
“Goodbye yellow toll road Where the dogs of society howl …”
Next? A box of bottles of Rescue Remedy, the anxiety cure. “Who is this for?” asked Claus.
“The Proteas. They going to need it to get some sleep because once the English are here, they won’t get much…”
Claus looked at the knitting needles and pattern book. “This isn’t going to work…
“Helen Zille is not going to sit by the fireside and knit.”
Chief Elf continued: “We have some donations of presents, which has saved us a bit of work…
He picked up a box just as a meow came from inside it.
“It’s a cat. It’s addressed to someone called Julius Malema, from somebody named Barry Bateman. I don’t get it…”
Both men suddenly stopped as the sound of hundreds of marching boots crunching on the former permafrost reached their ears.
“What on earth?” asked Claus, as he took in the immaculate presentation of three ranks of people wearing lederhosen.
“Who are you?”
“Guten Abend. I present compliments from Chancellor Angela Merkel. We are a gift to Andre de Ruyter, who is the new CEO of Eskom in South Africa.”
The German spun on his heel and said: “My name is Hans and may I present Hans, Hans, Hans, Hans, Hans – we are all Hans.”
The Chief Elf shook his head: “I don’t get this South African stuff…”
Claus sighed: “Many Hans make light work…