KEY POINTS:
It didn't matter what the big people said. He'd always be afraid. The terror would always grip him. But he had to confront it. So, with heart racing and fists clenched tight, he approached the heart of his darkness.
"Hullo, little boy," said the jovial figure, "What would you like for Christmas?"
"Ummmm," his voice trembled. He knew he was being impertinent. "Mmmm, I'd like a BMW 730Ld, Santa."
"Oh, dear," murmured Santa. "They cost a lot of money, little boy. Have you got a lot of money?"
"No, I haven't," he whispered. "I'm a taxpayer."
"What a shame," said Santa. "I know!" he beamed. "Why don't I give you a Cabinet minister for Christmas? They might let you ride in their BMW!"
"No thank you!" he sniffed. "If I can't have a BMW, what about a cheap diesel import?"
"I don't think so," replied Santa. "It might not meet the emission standards."
"But the BMWs don't either!!" he protested.
"You did say you were a taxpayer, didn't you?" Santa said sadly.
"I don't under ... " But then he did. "All right!" he snapped. "Just give me the money!"
"I'd love to," said Santa compassionately. "But I can't ... "
"Why not?"
"Because ... " Santa paused. "Because, if I did give you the money, you might use it to buy an election."
"I promise I won't!" he insisted.
"Ho, ho, ho," Santa chortled. "You don't have to promise anything, you silly little boy!"
"I don't?"
"No, no no," Santa chuckled. "It's all been done for you. By nice Ms Clark and her nice little elves, Jeanette and Winston. They've saved you the trouble. They've given you a nice little law for Christmas to make sure you won't. Isn't that nice?"
"I suppose so," he mused. "I suppose I'm not really big enough to think for myself."
"But you are lucky enough to have people who will do it for you!" beamed Santa. "And make sure no horrid rip-off rich person fills your head with ... impure thoughts! Because we can't have big money buying elections, can we?"
"I suppose not," he said ruefully. "I suppose ideas can be dangerous. Especially when it will be people what has doned NCEA Compensation."
"Comprehension ... "
"That's right. Especially when it will be people what has doned NCEA Comprehension who am exposed to them." He sighed. "Oh well, never mind. If I can't count my money, I'll just count my blessings."
"You'll be able to do both next year," Santa laughed.
"I will?"
"Yeeees! Next year, you'll have an extra Christmas. A special Christmas. Next year, nice Dr Cullen will have $6.4 billion to give away ... "
"Give back, you mean."
"With politicians it's the same thing," Santa explained. "And you'll get your share, little boy. You will!"
"When?"
"Probably in July. Or August. Maybe September."
"Why?"
"Because that'll be just before the elec ... " Santa stopped, realising he'd said too much. "Because that'll be when nice Dr Cullen - and you - need it most."
"But ... Santa, won't that be ... um, big money buying an election?"
"Of course it will!" Santa guffawed. "But it will be big money used by the right people for the right reasons. So that's all right!! Don't you bother your silly little head about it any more!
"You just tell me what you want for Christmas! ... Apart from what you've already told me."
He thought for a moment. "Okay. Could I have a job doing publicity for a government department?"
"Is your name Curran?"
"No."
"Sorry."
"What about an apology?"
"Is your name Leigh?"
"No."
"Sorry."
At this point, it was fury, not fear, that filled his soul. "So let's get this straight, fat man! I can't get a Beemer. I can't get an import. I can't get the money. I can't think for myself. I can't get a cushy job. And I can't get an apology. Well, can I at least get some answers?"
"Wadda ya think I am?!?" roared Santa, leaping to his feet and sending his youthful charge crashing to the floor. "A miracle worker?"
Footnote: No Christmas column would be complete without a contribution from the extinguished poet laureate, Mr Jam Hipkins, who wishes his many admirer a very Merry and Merrymorable Christmas and shares the hope that the world be - or should be - a much better place if we just treated the people we don't know the same way we treated the people we do.
We'll conclude with Mr Hipkins' lovely tribute to our glorious leaders:
The politician thought and thought
And thought so very hard
What heartening message would enhance
The empty Christmas card?
What words of joy and comfort
Could the politician bring?
What ray of hope for simple souls
To which they'd gladly cling?
What telling thought would raise up
All the people of the land
And neatly capture for them
All the joys the Party planned?
It needed to be something
They'd remember when out votin
And so the politician wrote,
ALLES VERBOTEN
