I found out today that Santa doesn't live at the North Pole. He doesn't drive a sled or have dozens of elves scurrying around his feet.
Santa drives a bus for the Brisbane council.
Times are tough, eh?
I guess we've all moonlighted in jobs that we haven't been proud of at one time or another. In my younger days I picked watermelons to earn a dollar. Maybe I should say
attempted to pick watermelons, as I had the job of standing in an eight foot cardboard box on the back of a truck as workmates threw watermelons in at me. Often more than one at a time. Or completely without warning. Or after I'd been hit on the head for the hundredth time that hour and was obviously unconscious, bleeding and in need of medical assistance on the bottom of the box. In hindsight it's a miracle I didn't get shipped off to market under half a ton of melons at some point.
Anyway where was I? Oh yeah, Santa.
I must say I was surprised this morning when the Santa bus pulled up to my stop, complete with miles of tinsel wound around the interior and on the windows, christmas lights, a tree and Santa himself in full gear at the wheel. I didn't spot a nativity scene but it was undoubtedly there somewhere.
Times have obviously been tough on the big guy of late, and he sounded a lot more like a grumpy Brisbane bus driver who was forced to wear a stinking hot red suit and beard on a warm day, but I'm probably just reading too much into things. I'm sure even Santa has his off days.
Anyhow, make sure you are all listening on Christmas eve for the screech of tires on your roof.
