The True Story Of Rudolph The Red

Rudolf the Red knows what’s up, the leading reindeer winked to reassure an agitated elf.
Don’t listen to a word he’s telling you, interrupted Santa Claus. When have the reindeers ever stood up for ordinary elves, them with their gold-plated pensions and cushy conditions?
Typical divide-and-conquer tactics, Ruldolf shot back. We might have expected this sort of stunt from you, you fat parasite bastard.
It had been like this ever since the IMF foreclosed on the North Pole - finger-pointing, fractiousness, division and threat.
So Ruldolf’s going to lead the Elf Liberation Front (ELF) now, is he?, scoffed the rotund Claus, holding his sides to make a show of his mirth. Ho, ho, ho.
I can remember when you were a bit of a radical yourself, came Rudolf’s rejoinder. Back then it was Ho, ho, Ho Chi Minh.
Well, that was then, shrugged the supposedly bountiful full-bellied bourgeois. This is now. Some of us have decided to live in the real world. Everybody has to make sacrifices. That includes reindeer, no matter how vital they think they are. They have been petted and pampered while elves - for whom I have always had the highest admiration - have had to eke out an existence. I’m on the side of the less well-off against the least deserving. We are where we are.
We know where you are, you lying bastard, snarled Rudolf, imposing measures that no citizen of the North Pole region ever voted for. What about all those promises about steady growth in toy-production, reaching ever-expanding markets and rewards shared out fairly if we all kept our heads down and caused no disruption? Now the whole manufacturing sector has been kyboshed. You’re not going to solve this by producing fewer ray-guns, or reducing hay rations all round or cutting the number of sleigh runs. That’ll just take demand out of the economy. Fair enough, you could balance the books in the short term by cutting back on the categories of children eligible for toys. Very few would object to the offspring of bankers, members of the government, Sunday Independent columnists and suchlike being dropped off the list. We might all get a momentary sense of satisfaction from that. But the problem is systemic. It won’t go away.
Even so, an elf, Elvis, spoke up, it does seem fair that those who could afford to pay a wee bit extra should bear more of the brunt than us on the breadline. I’m working all hours but my wages are 30 percent down. Hi ho, hi ho.
It wasn’t a reindeer who slashed your wages and made you work longer hours for no extra pay, said Rudolf, vehemently. It was fuck-face Claus, taking his orders from his poncy pals in the Counting House and trying to set us against one another. Do you think if us reindeers pay a wee bit extra, it’s going to be passed on to you elves? Have you gone do-lally altogether? It’ll be straight into the coffers of Claus’s mates that caused the crisis in the first place with their Mad Hatter economics - and Claus will be raking off a cut for himself.
Is that right? wondered Elvis, looking directly at a suddenly stern-faced Claus. If the reindeers give a bit more, will we get a bit more? We’d need to know. Hi ho.

WHAT ABOUT POOR PEOPLE?
Oh, that’s far, far too simplistic, Claus shook his head and sighed. The problem with Rudolf the Red is that he’s a lot longer on rhetoric than he is on reality. There’s practical questions that have to be faced. If we don’t reduce the wage-bill, we’ll run out of dosh. It’s as simple as that. We have to show some maturity here. I read an article in the last edition of the North Prole saying that everything would be OK if I stepped aside and allowed the deer and the elves, the so-called Bambi Alliance, to run the show themselves. Crazy stuff. You’d end up under a dictatorship – with Rudolf and his gang holding the whip. I’m telling you, that’s been his plan all along. I am appealing directly to the decent majority of elves. You have always been the polar opposites of the anarchist antelopes, socialist stags, Marxist moose and the rest of those queer-looking quadrupeds who have been terrorising the tundra for far too long. Stand by Santa is what I say! We are all in this together!
The tundra is hundreds of miles from the North Pole, came Rudolf’s devastating reply. Your geography is as bad as your politics. (Laughter.) What’s more, referring to queer-looking quadrupeds gave the game away - using crude speciesism to drive a wedge into our ranks. (Howls of outrage.) We raise the ancient honourable cry - Four legs good, two legs every bit as good when you think about it really!
The all-encompassing generosity of the pithy slogan swept up the masses of deer and elves into a state of high excitement and a trembling sense of solidarity.
Before you make up your minds you should at least listen to my latest innovative money-saving idea, protested the crest-fallen Claus. Uh huh, agreed Elvis.
Delivery charges! explained Claus, inordinately pleased with himself. So much per item, targeting appropriate demographics so as to maximise revenue.
What about poor people, inquired Rudolf?
If they afford to smoke fags and go out drinking every night of the week, they can afford a delivery charge, said Claus. As far as I can see, the poor don’t know when they are well-off.
You bastard, said Rudolf. You are worst thing to happen to Xmas since King Harold.
I think you mean King Herod, sneered Claus. You’ll do down in history.
You’ll go up against the fucking wall, promised Rudolf.
(To be continued)