Part 26 (1/2)

'You do have everything under control now, don't you, Arthur?' was the question that he asked.

'Certainly do.' Arthur availed himself of the royal cakes without being asked. 'I have just had a call from a chief inspector of police that we have on our payroll. He informs me that Hugo Rune is no longer a threat to security.'

'You mean he's-' 'Very,' said Arthur.

'Shame,' said the king.

'Oh, don't start all that again.'

'Do you know,' the king poured himself another drink, 'sometimes I wonder if it's all really worth-while? This b.u.g.g.e.ring up of mankind that we do. Holding them back. Messing them all about.'

'They would thank you for it if they knew,' Arthur unreliably informed his king.

'Would they really thank me?'

'Of course they would. They love you, don't they?'

'Do they still love me, really?'

'They adore you. You still have an enormous following.'

'Tell me about my following,' said the king. 'Tell me, Arthur.'

'They still perform The Ceremony of the Sacred Sock.'

'Do they?' asked the king. 'What is that by the way?'

Arthur sighed. 'The sacred ceremony, where they pray for you to bestow gifts upon them.'

'And do they still call me by my name?' asked the king.

'Oh yes,' said Arthur Kobold. 'They still call you good old Father Christmas.'

The crowd closed in around Cornelius Murphy.

There were tears of joy and kisses and smiles and cuddlings. And things of that nature generally.

Touching? Heart-warming? Sentimental overkill?Steven Spielberg could not have directed it better. Tuppe, who had in fact directed it, paid off the small golden child with a fifty-pence piece. 'You done good, kid,' said he.

'We agreed a pound,' the child replied. 'And two for the ocarina.'

'Just call me good old Father Christmas,' said Tuppe.

'Good old Father Christmas,' said the king.

'Good old you,' said Arthur Kobold.

'And they still hang up their socks?'

'They still hang them up, but you don't put any-thing in them any more.

'No,' said the king, 'I don't. Why don't I?'

'Because', said Arthur, 'you got fed up with it and you said, ”Stuff the lot of them, it's my birthday and it's my magic birthday spell. And I'm going to use it having a good time and the parents can fill up their kids' stockings themselves.”'

'I said that?'

'You did. And at the end you said, ”So there!” And you stuck out your tongue. I remember that quite well.'

'Stuck out my tongue?'

'And said, ”So there!”.'

'I did that?'

'You know you did. The special birthday spell was formulated so you could travel all around the world dispensing joy and goodwill and presents, before one second of real time had pa.s.sed.'

'So that's how I did it. I always wondered.'

'That's how you did it. But you don't do it any more.

'Because that other bloke stole my birthday,' said the king in a sulky voice.

'That other bloke? Jesus, you mean! You can't even bring yourself to say his name.'

'He ripped me off,' Father Christmas complained. 'Just because he was born on my birthday. He even named himself after me. Jesus Christmas! Doesn't sound right anyway.

'I have tried to explain to you about him before,' said Arthur. 'I don't know why you get so worked up. You're both G.o.ds, aren't you? In as many words, and as near as makes no odds. But you're a far more popular G.o.d than him really.'

'Am I?' asked King Christmas.

'Of course you are. I keep telling you. Christmas Day. Which G.o.d would you choose, if you were a kiddie? The squalling brat in the manger, who's get-ting all the presents, or the jolly red-faced man, with the nice white beard, who's bringing you presents?'

'I know which one I'd choose,' said the king.

'And me,' said Arthur.

'So do you think I should use my special spell to bring joy and goodwill and presents once more to the world of men?'

'Nah,' said Arthur. 'Stuff the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds is what I say.'

'My opinion entirely,' the king agreed. 'I'm the guvnor. I'm in charge. And I'll run the world my way.

'Quite so,' said Arthur. 'You do it your way.

'I will,' said the king. 'And, Arthur, as you have done so well, I am going to promote you. From now on you are my chief of security.'

'Oh goody goody gumdrops,' said Arthur Kobold through gritted teeth.