Once upon a now there was a North Pole. At this North Pole there was a North Hole. And down this North Hole was a North Santa’s Office. And in this North Santa’s Office there was a North Santa (or “Santa”, to his friends).

Outside this office there were billions of machines. You put a wish list in one end and it comes out of the other as presents and boxes of all sizes. Then the millions and millions and millions of elves take these presents, and load them on a huge terrific terrific huge sledge. Then old Santa comes bustling out of his office, leaps onto the sledge, cracks his whip, and orf they jolly well go.

Then he sails to the nearest house, crashes his sledge on the roof, consults a list big enough to go all the way round the world three times, selects the correct presents, loads them in his whacking great sack, drops the sack down the chimney, then jumps down after it.

Sometimes he leaps down upside down, and lands on his head.
Sometimes the parents forget it’s Christmas Eve, and have a fire lit. Gulp!
Sometimes the chimney is bricked up at the bottom.
Sometimes it’s too thin to allow Santa to go down.
Sometimes they’ve ordered something so big that the present can’t get down the chimney.

So one day my friend Mr Claus decided to take a pneumatic road drill with him to annihilate all these problems. So off he went. But a certain house in England proved to have too thin an expanse to allow either Santa or present to go down.

But – ding! the drill broke down.

So Santa wondered what to do. Then he consulted his list. On seeing what the present was listed as on the list, his brain went “Ding!”, and one could almost see the light bulb on top of his head. For the present was, no less, a full sized pneumatic road drill.

So that was that problem sorted.

So then he went on, and eventually found himself back at his North Santa’s Office, where he collapsed into an armchair, closed his eyes, and fell asleep by the fireside.


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