![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/spriteclub.com.au\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/12\/SCSA-Christmas-22-4-scaled.jpg?ssl=1\")
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\u2019Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The stockings were hung by the garage with care, in hopes that St Colin of Sprite Parts goodies might land there;<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Spridgets were nestled all snug on their sheds, while visions of demijohns of HPR30 danced in their heads. <\/p>\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nAnd mamma in her nighty, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a mid-summers nap,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter! <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters to the sight of a hell of a crash!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When, what to my weary eyes did appear, but a bloody great sleigh, and eight, slightly winded, flying reindeer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And a bloke in a suit, covered in mud really quite thick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.<\/p>\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nOh bugger, he muttered, the sleigh was bent right, out of shape and dented, with only tonight. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
To deliver the presents to kids and dreaming car owners, now the night was all ruined, for a white Roo he had run over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That doesn\u2019t look good muttered I, then passed him a cold beer, his reindeer became startled and did up and disappear. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And the White Roo now joining the choir invisible, the remaining White Boomers to up and long bolted, their concern unequivocal, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Leaving little kids dreams fading , yet oh but so near.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A bent sleigh in the night, the steering all shot. The right ski was all bent, the left reigns in a knot. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
“What the bloody hell now shall I do?” he said between swigs, tears running down his fat cheeks, as he thought of the kids. <\/p>\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nLooks of disappointment of presents not there and losing their faith, in the jolly man with white hair<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I passed him my phone with \u201cI know a bloke you might call. The Marquis d’ Restauration and there\u2019s no job that\u2019s too tall.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cReally? Right now?\u201d, the jolly gent spluttered, \u201cbut it\u2019s so awfully late?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCan\u2019t hurt\u201d I replied, \u201cthose kids, they won\u2019t wait!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you sure\u201d, he replied, \u201cdo you think he might look?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh\u201d, I said thoughtfully, \u201cthe sleigh might fit right in his book.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So he dials the number and a bleary voice says \u201cTonight? Sorry, no way. Bring it round next week and we can try for March, or maybe for May.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a list you know, of car owners\u2019 naughty and nice. Don\u2019t you have mechanic elves up North on the ice?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Said Santa with a growl, lost deep in his funk, \u201cThey\u2019re on their union stand down, now very likely quite drunk!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut hang on a jif\u201d, the voice says with a hoot, \u201cLets call brother Pat and borrow his old Ute. With its cavernous boot, you can load up the sacks, then haul all the loot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\u201cYes\u201d, I jump in, \u201cbut you\u2019ll still need some help. That Falcon alone won\u2019t manage the hand that\u2019s been dealt. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
With eight roaring Spridgets, you\u2019ll never be late!” Call Gordon and Chris” I cry, “they\u2019ve got several to offer, and if you plumb don\u2019t ask, you never know what they can proffer”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThen try Michael and Gary, Steve, Darrel, Garth or Nathan, but don\u2019t bother Dean, he will tending his vines, dreaming of vintage and serving Shiraz to the nation”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cRussell and Judy will be out meandering along, and, oh, Chris M\u2019s cars won\u2019t be running, so you might want to call Don”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes, I think these are you best bet, just don\u2019t rely on Jez, he\u2019ll most likely forget!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
More rapid than eagles his saviours all then came, and with a smile on his face, he whistled and called them by name:<\/p>\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\u201cNow, Skinner! now, Union! Now, Dellorto and Weber!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On, Austin! on, Healey! on, Bug-eye and Midget!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To the top of the porch. To the top of the wall! Now race away! Race away! Race away all!<\/p>\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nAs valve rockers dance before the wild push rods that did fly, and with those A Series on cam, hill climb to the sky;<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Up to the corkscrew, atop the Hills, they rapidly flew, with the cars full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh My\u201d, muttered Santa, \u201cthis is now quite a Spritely Adventure!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nAnd then, in a twinkling, I heard back up on the roof<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh bugger and damnation, blasted Lucas electrics went poof.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I drew in my head, and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nic came back with a bound. Dressed in fur overalls, all stained head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with gearbox oil and Lucas smoke soot;<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A bundle of toys he now flung off his back, he looked like beaten and downhearted, like a tramp with only his pack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s it, I\u2019m buggered\u201d, he moaned, \u201cthe Prince of Darkness has got me\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nHis eyes were down cast, \u201cJust carrots and milk, dear God, where\u2019s the damn Sherry??\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His droll little mouth, now drawn down like a bow, And his beard mixed with grease, no longer whiter than snow. A stumpy screwdriver he held tight in his teeth, and puff on a Cuban and smoke rings like a wreath;<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He had such a broad face and a massive round belly, that shook when he sobbed, like a bowlful of jelly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was chubby and plump, a right grumpy old elf, thank goodness for the Ute, for slipping into a Spridget, he was really not svelte!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then with a glint in his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know the kids of the world had but nothing to dread;<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He spoke not a word, but consulted his phone, and called Sir Sean of the Clubbies, to more reliably light his way on, to continue his work and then fly all the way home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he filled all the stockings, and if he didn\u2019t give a faint little twerk,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And laying his finger on his rather large nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;<\/p>\n\n\n
<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nHe lept into the Ute, with Sprites all on song, away they all flew, that burble heard long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I did heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHappy Christmas to all, and to all Spridgets a good night!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n Humble apologies to Dr Seuss and Clement Clarke Moore (and the faintest of Christmas nods to Monty Python….) ….. \u2019Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not … Continue reading A Right Spritely Christmas<\/span> <\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"