The Christmas Fairy Monologue

[BRENDA, A RATHER TIRED AND BATTERED FAIRY, IS BUSY MENDING HER BROKEN WAND. SHE IS HUMMING 'DING DONG MERRILY ON HIGH' CHEERFULLY WHILST TYING HERSELF UP IN STICKY TAPE.]

BRENDA:
La la la la la la, hosanna in the highest. There! [SHE HOLDS UP A RATHER WONKY WAND.] Now where's that tiara?

[SHE TRYS TO PUT DOWN THE WAND BUT IT IS STUCK TO HER HAND.]

Oh hello. No, don't mind me, I'm nearly done.

[SHE HOLDS UP A HAND MIRROR AND ADJUSTS THE TIARA.]

Does that look straight to you?

[SHE PICKS UP A CHRISTMAS CARD.]

Ah, look at this. A card from Cinderella. "Dear Brenda, Merry Christmas, love Cinders and Charming. XXX. PS. Please can you send me your recipe for Pumpkin pie."

What palaver hey? Every year it's the same. The sound of the last firework dies away and Asda is discounting mince pies on the telly. Wham, bam, thank you mam, it's the festive season. Mind you, you won't hear me complaining. It may only be seasonal work but being the fairy on top of the Christmas tree is a lot better than scraping a living collecting children's teeth from under pillows. People go round sticking Fluoride in toothpaste but they don't think of the consequences. There are those of us for whom bad teeth are a source of income.

Being the fairy on top of the Christmas tree is dead brill. For a start you get a good view of what's going on. And don't it go on.

First there's all that business with Father Christmas. What's that all about, hey? A fat bloke in a red suit squeezes his way down the chimney and leaves a load of stuff. The first time I saw him I thought he was a fly-tipper.

I had a peek one year. Do you know he arrives on a flying sleigh? It's only got one light and that's red. It's stuck on the nose of a reindeer. That can't be legal.

Oh and them poor elves he has. He never lets them have a swig of the sherry people leave out for him. Mind you, it's probably a good thing. They're vicious when they're drunk.

Do you like my wings? I'm not sure myself. I think they make my bum look big.

I want a figure like that fashion doll they gave the little girl here last year. Ooh she was lovely. She had long golden hair and fabulous clothes. She was 44-18-24. Look at me, 44-44-44. Well it comes from being made out of the inside of a toilet roll.

You wouldn't believe the turkey the family has bought. It's the size of a small caravan. They always buy too much. No one needs a hundred weight of Brussels Sprouts. Not even in Belgium.

That's the thing about Christmas. Everyone does things to excess. Have you seen outside? They've put up some outdoor decorations. There are so many lights out there a jumbo jet landed on the garage roof.

And what about this tree I'm supposed to sit on. It's huge. There's still a family of squirrels hibernating in the trunk. It's got so many baubles hanging off it it looks like a pawnbrokers convention. And it's got those fairy lights that flash and play music. It's going to be like sitting on top of a high pitched discotheque.

Still, I shouldn't complain. It's that lot in the corner I feel sorry for. Apparently it's called a crib scene. Now I have to be honest, for quite a while I didn't realise that it had anything to do with Christmas. But I've been talking to one of the camels and he explained it all to me.

It seems there's a baby over there. It's in a manger. Apparently it's his birthday. The poor thing, fancy being born at Christmas when there's so much going on.

Anyway, according to the camel, Mum and Dad couldn't find anywhere to stop and have the baby. They obviously hadn't booked in advance which is what you should do in the holiday season. And so they ended up in a stable. It's very picturesque, just not very hygienic.

So then, the baby is born and next thing they know all these people start appearing. There's a whole load of shepherds complete with sheep. There's a donkey and then three kings turned up on camels bearing gifts. The kings not the camels. Gold, frankincense and fur. It should be myrrh but that broke off a few years back and when they tried to glue it back on - the cat got in the way. On top of all this there are several angels and a whopping great big star made out of bottle tops.

I feel sorry the child, I really do. He's dragged out every Christmas and made a fuss of. Then before you know it he's back in a box and shoved up out of the way in the attic. You never have a chance to get to know him. It's a pity because I get the feeling there's a whole lot more to him than a guest slot in the school nativity and a chorus of 'Away in a Manger'.

Right, it's time to climb the tree. I hope they've got one of those non-drop ones. Those pine needles get everywhere.


 Stephen Deal, 1998