No, I mean, he said it was part of his midlife crisis,
Left him with this yearning for salad cream.
I don't think I ever had a midlife crisis.
You've caused a few, though, haven't you?
I put the wind up Nora Batty a time or two, I'll tell thee.
How did you get this fixation for Nora Batty?
Just luck, I suppose.
I don't understand him.
I mean, if you were inventing a woman, there's so much you'd want to change.
But you've got to admire his nerve.
No one could accuse him of starting at the easy end.
(whistling)
- Oh, I like that. - That's very ingenious.
- How much do you reckon that'Ill cost? - It's not for sale. It's for display purposes.
- You know, a lot like Nora Batty. - Except the Santa Claus is fitter.
- Be too much for my pocket, anyroad. - Aw.
Everybody say, ''Aw.''
(all) Aw.
Christmas comes but once a year, and still we can't afford it.
'Ey-up, Crusher!
Crusher. What you doing up there?
- Christmas decoration. - Oh.
Well, it makes a change from the normal fairy.
Hey, Norm, can you have a normal fairy?
- Well, only on a Christmas tree. - Ah.
- He's doing it wrong. - Teacher's at it again. Don't interfere.
I can't bear to see sloppy work. Now, lad, why don't you move your steps this way?
Argh!
Hey! Hey! Why don't you move your steps more that way?
Well away from the lad. Now, sit down and I'll serve you directly.
(slams kettle down)
She's got thee weighed up, Seymour. (chuckles)
- Why don't we change the subject? - Why not? I'm good at that.
As a husband you had to get good at that pretty quick.
Right, what should we talk about?
Whose turn is it to pay?
Why... why don't we change the subject?
(Edie) Wesley, will you step inside a moment, please?
- (man) You what? - Will you step inside for a moment?
You what?
Come in!
- You what? - Come inside. I've been calling you.
You shout that posh these days, I can never tell a word you say.
Well, you don't know who might be listening.
I'm not standing rawping my head off
when we've got a dentist and two qualified surveyors in the street.
Now, wash your hands. I've run you some nice hot water.
- And don't splash. - Don't splash?
Have you ever tried dabbling in water without splashing?
Three people drowning wouldn't spread it about worse than you.
What's it all in aid of, anyway?
All? All? I have asked you to get your hands clean, that is all.
It's not major surgery.
You'll be on your feet in no time.
I was just in the middle of giving me engine a tune.
Well, you can play to it later. Now, sit down.
Look, there's a pen there and there's your writing glasses.
It's an exam. Have I got to pass my advanced matrimony now?
You haven't passed elementary yet.
Sit down. And then you c...
Look, there's a box of Christmas cards there with envelopes.
- Get your cards written. - I thought you'd done the cards.
I have done our cards.
There's still your personal ones.
Because if you think I'm sending seasons greetings
to Messrs Hard To Find Motor Parts Ltd, you've got another thing coming.
- I hate writing Christmas cards. - Oh, get on with it.
(sighs) I wish it was summer.
By the time they get there, it will be summer if you don't get a move on.
Howard?
Merry Christmas, missus.
What?
Oh. Yes.
Merry Christmas.
The lad's still doing it wrong.
I thought we were gonna change the subject.
Now, shut tha face, Seymour. Does tha wanna get us turfed out?
What a poetical grasp he has of his native tongue.
- It's for thee own good. - ''Shut tha face, Seymour.''
Have you any idea what that does to a former headmaster?
Aye.
Everything but shut him up!
- I shall have to take your diction in hand. - I beg your pardon?!
- Don't worry about it. - Your vocabulary is minimal.
What's a ''miminal'', Norm?
Well, the way you say it, it sounds like a small animal.
- Er... smaller than a ferret? - Oh, definitely smaller than a ferret.
- How small? - Oh, it's...
minimal.
Have you ever thought of a good correspondence course?
No.
I could give you our special introductory Christmas rate.
Bog off.
Russian, I don't do. Let's get your English right first.
Oh! Oh!
Oh...
- Help. - 'Ey-up, it's Marina!
Oh, my God!
- Whatever next? - Sorry, missus.
One false step and you're covered with large young men.
- I was just, er... - Very large young men.
..sticking something over the door.
It's turning into quite a Christmas.
- Milburn. - Huh?
- Put that woman down. - It's me Auntie Ivy.
Does she have a day off?
What are you doing with your steps stuck in the door hole?
No harm done. Just set me heart... pounding a bit.
Milburn!
The customers can do their own pounding.
Now then, move them steps.
- Norman Clegg. - Who's a dark horse, then?!
- I hardly know her. - She knows you.
Could we have a word in private, Norman, please?
- No. - He means yes. Up, up, up!
- Up, up! - Come with me.
- How can we come if it's private? - Don't go away, eh? Don't go away.
If you're not back by Easter, send us a card.
He seems very nervous of the opposite sex.
At first, he said his marriage were going fine, and then he went on his honeymoon.
I wonder what she wants with him?
Why, it's no business of ours, is it?
Correct.
Argh!
Nosy devil! Mind your body, Milburn.
'Ey-up! He's getting presents from Marina.
It's for Howard. It's something she's knitted for him.
She knows I'm next door. I'm to give it to him when Pearl's not looking.
That's easy enough done.
Pearl will kill me if she finds me smuggling in presents from his girlfriend.
Don't panic, man. We'll come with you.
Oh, you promise now?
That's what friends are for. We'll be right beside you.
If only for the laugh.
- Nothing in it. Basic planning. - Tha's done this before.
- Don't start jumping to conclusions. - I still don't like it. It makes me nervous.
- Er, merry Christmas, Howard. - That's very nice of you, Cleggy.
Give him the whole story, give him the proper message. Don't do only half a job.
She sends her love. It's from Marina.
- It's from tha bird, Howard. - You shouldn't have brought it here.
- Where else would I bring it? - Suppose somebody finds it?
- You're on your own, Howard. - That's charming!
- Pull yourself together, man. - It's easy for you to talk.
You're not the one getting Christmas presents.
I've forgotten me shopping list.
What's all this about Christmas presents?
It... it's just a bit of something that Cleggy's been kind enough to give me.
- That's nice, Norman. - Oh, it's nothing, really.
I must say, you do tie a lovely ladylike parcel.
He's always been a neat lad.
And has he always gone in for Iittle lovebirds on his wrapping paper?
- He's just an old softie. - Probably all they had left.
- That's right. That's all they had left. - Fancy.
I didn't even know they were lovebirds.
I thought they were canaries - killer canaries.
(wrapping paper tears)
Oops! Now it's all come undone.
Hand-knitted.
Well, you know these long winter evenings.
Well, don't be bashful, tell us.
- What is it? - Jumper.
- A scarf. - Surprise.
Sounds like it.
- Oh, a cardigan. - Cardigan.
''To Howard.''
''Love and kisses from...
you know who.''
- Merry Christmas. - Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas, Howard.
(chuckles)
You feel a right minimal. I shall have to move house.
- You realise that, don't you? - She'll get over it.
One cardigan out of wedlock... It's hardly a hanging matter, is it?
I should think Howard's feeling a bit choked already, isn't he?
Poor old Howard. I shall have to get him something for Christmas.
He'll run a mile if he sees you with another parcel.
I wonder where you can buy that lovebird wrapping paper?
Oh, forget it, forget it.
Norm!
- Morning. - Morning.
You realise we passed Father Christmas and nobody gave him a second look?
That wasn't the real Father Christmas.
How do you know if we didn't give him a second look?
Ah!
I take Clegg's point.
Christmas is becoming so familiar, it's losing its surprise.
I still say it weren't the real Father Christmas.
I bet Father Christmas gets really hacked off
with people who keep stabbing him in the ribs, saying:
''I don't believe in Father Christmas.''
The point is, even if he had been real,
we still wouldn't have given him a second look.
It were almost certainly Jackie Pillsworth. He does it every year for the Co-op.
Oh.
Maybe Jackie Pillsworth is the real Father Christmas.
Norman? Little Norm?
Jackie Pillsworth used to work for the Northern Dairies.
That was just his cover story.
(chuckles)
Have you seen Mrs Pillsworth?
Now, that's some cover story.
If the real Father Christmas is married to Annie Pillsworth,
then a merry Christmas, Father Christmas.
I never knew they had Father Christmas at the Co-op.
- It's down in the basement. - That's typical, isn't it?
''Yes, we'll have Father Christmas, as long as we can bung him in the basement.''
Imagine trekking for weeks across the ice
in appalling conditions to reach the Pole, and when you get there,
who's gonna be waiting with a lifetime of Northern Dairies stories?
Jackie Pillsworth.
They don't call it the basement, they call it ''Santa's Grotto''.
Grotto? Grotto? Have they no feel for historical accuracy?
Just a feel for charging admission.
What the devil has Father Christmas got to do with a grotto?
Why don't they bung him in the broom closet? ''Santa's Broom Closet''?
If they want to go even further, what's wrong with the sewers?
- ''Santa's Sewers.'' - Don't take on so, Seymour.
They let him out afore Boxing Day.
The whole seedy thing offends the traditionalist in me.
I like ceremonies when they're done properly.
I like to see Santa back where he belongs - up somebody's chimney.
Now that he's free of his commitment to Northern Dairies,
I wonder why he's never bothered to get himself the local agency for vac sweep?
We did the ceremonies properly when I ran my own school.
Ah.
I had the little chaps well-drilled at the Utterthwaite Academy.
I used to look down from that morning assembly on my little men.
It used to bring a lump to the throat.
Our school dinners were like that.
We even evolved a rather elegant little drill for bringing in the matron.
(both chuckle)
She used to return by taxi, much the worse for drink.
My Auntie Jessie were like that.
I never knew your Auntie Jessie came home by taxi.
- Oh-ho! - Matron had a personal problem.
She couldn't walk straight?
Me Auntie Jessie to a T.
Plus, she'd been rather badly bruised in some affair of the heart.
Ah, that must be the White Hart.
Nevertheless, in the epidemic she was a tower of strength.
Epidemic?
- Was it contagious? - Was it contagious? It was virulent.
Schoolboys are. There's nothing on this planet quite so septic as a schoolboy.
Is this my glass?
- Are you sure that this is my glass? - It's tha glass. Get over it.
Suddenly, I have this little voice deep in my psyche, saying:
''Norman, Norman, don't get hold of the wrong glass.''
Were they contagious? My God.
- What kind of epidemic? - Spots, that's the other thing they do.
Turn your back for two minutes and they come out in spots.
- I used to be covered in spots. - You're still only covered in spots.
Ah. I shall get done up for Christmas.
You hear about these small organisms causing disease. My God.
You put a couple of schoolboys together and they start fermenting or something.
I shall wear something really fetching for Christmas Day,
something suitable for dragging Nora Batty under the mistletoe.
Oh, battle dress?
I can't understand what you hate about Christmas shopping.
We only have to do it once a year. And don't say it seems like more.
You always say it seems like more.
And don't lag behind when I'm nagging you!
- It seemed a good idea to me. - Oh, get a move on.
I am getting a move on.
Got to get your Desmond a shirt.
I don't know whether I can stand the excitement
of getting our Desmond a shirt.
Oh, keep yourself fastened up.
- Now, what neck size is your Desmond? - How the heck do I know?
Not only Christmas shopping, you've got me doing homework now as well.
Come on, and keep in step!
And don't let me hear you thinking what I think you're thinking.
- I will not tolerate unruly behaviour. - Where does tha think tha's going?
I'm going to squash this situation before it escalates.
- (both) Merry Christmas, Seymour! - Don't worry about me.
The authority of a former headmaster is sufficient to arbitrate in these situations.
(chuckles)
(both chuckle)
I say, you there! This won't do, you know.
What would your mothers think, two big strapping lads?
(sniggers)
(bicycle bell)
'Ey-up, Santa! Your wheel's coming off.
Santa Claus speaks fluent sign language. I never knew that.
What a travesty of Christmas - Santa Claus on a bicycle.
Well, maybe Rodbury's have run out of reindeer.
That's no excuse for trampling on traditions like that.
It's time someone put Santa back where he belongs -
up on a roof, near a chimney stack.
I bought some bath foam and talcum powder for Mrs Horbury.
Mother, you can't stand Mrs Horbury.
Ah, well, I mean, you have to make an effort at Christmas time.
(chuckles)
I think it says it all, don't you? Bath foam and talcum powder.
(engine revs)
Look, would you shout out there and tell your father to stop revving?
Oh, he's listening to Barry's engine.
- How is Barry? - Oh, he's all right.
It's his engine.
- Are you happy, love? - Oh, we're fine.
He's a good, steady lad.
Yes, but has he got the drive to push himself up into executive circles?
Let him stay good and steady. I'll provide the drive.
You see, I've suffered so much that way with your father.
It would need a Black & Decker to get him out of his overalls.
They may have their little faults, Mam, but at least we always know where they are.
Where are they?
They'll be road-testing Barry's car.
Well, Barry's car's still there.
They must have had some reason for going off in the Land Rover.
Uncle Seymour. I'll bet they've been snatched by Uncle Seymour.
If ever they go missing, it's cos they've been snatched to do labouring for him.
Well, he's got such lovely hands, has Uncle Seymour - headmaster's hands.
You see, he's accustomed to having people to do his labouring for him.
I needed Barry. We were going shopping.
Ah. He'll come to no harm with your Uncle Seymour.
I'm supposed to be shopping with our Glenda.
Shut up, Barry. There's a good lad.
- We're going shopping. She said. - (all) Shut up, Barry. There's a good lad.
You see the problem - how to get Father Christmas to appear on the roof
as if by magic.
Oh...
Why is it me? Why is it always me?!
Why is it you? Because you look magnificent.
Doesn't he look magnificent?
Repeat after me: ''He looks magnificent.''
- (all, feebly) He looks magnificent. - What did I tell you?
(groans)
Can I go shopping?
(all) Shut up, Barry. There's a good lad.
Why do I have to go climbing on people's roofs?
Why? Because you're Santa, that's why.
And because you've got the wellies for it, real Santa Claus wellies.
And once we start providing this service for grateful shopkeepers,
they'll attract large crowds and you'll be earning money,
and able to buy seasonal gifts for Nora Batty.
How high are these shopkeepers' roofs?
Oh, probably no higher than this one.
I don't like that ''probably'', Norm.
I think I'm going to have trouble with that ''probably''.
Whatever you do up there, don't tread on your sleeves.
Yes, smarten yourself up. Remember who you are.
Oh, I know who I am. I'm a first-class pillock, that's who I am.
I must say, you're looking really cosy.
Well, more or less a tea cosy.
That's it. Pointing more or less to the chimney stack.
You're very good with a ladder. I spotted it immediately:
''My God, they're good with a ladder.''
I expect Glenda's wondering where I am.
Just let your mind go numb, Barry. It's the only way on these Seymour expeditions.
How do you think Father Christmas feels?
His mind's been numb for years.
Oh, God, let it be that here on this spot
Seymour Utterthwaite began to put the magic back into Christmas.
I've never asked a lot of you, Lord.
Surely we're not gonna fall out over one false step with a barmaid?
Well, I was under considerable stress at the time.
What do I do when I get up there?
Do? You say, ''Ho, ho, ho.''
''Ho, ho, ho''? That's it?
In a deep, loud, cheerful Christmassy voice.
(deep voice) Ho, ho, ho.
What a load of cobblers.
A speaking part.
It's your first time on a roof and it's a speaking part.
I'll do it. I'll do it for Nora!
I shall be guiding you every inch of the way.
Now, you'll bear in mind that this is only a rehearsal.
You must imagine a large crowd waiting to see you.
They'll be on the other side of the building and they'll see you as you appear.
- That's a bit high, Norm. - Nonsense.
You get a roof any lower than that, it's going to be a floor.
I can't impress upon you too strongly
the importance of your first appearance to the crowd.
First impressions.
Have I got to do impressions as well?
What you have to do is make it look easy and natural.
Santa spends half his life on roofs.
I don't want the crowd to see you come creeping and grunting into view,
looking terrified of falling.
But I am terrified of falling.
It sounds reasonable to me.
We'll all be here right behind you, and you'll be perfectly safe.
And why will you be perfectly safe?
Because I'm not going up.
Because we'll be propping you up with the thingummy.
Neat, isn't it?
All you have to do is lean back comfortably on the thingummy.
(chuckles) It'll be like relaxing in your old armchair.
Have you seen his old armchair?
Right, up you go.
We place the padded end into the small of your back,
exert a steady thrust, and up the ladder you'll float.
Right, lean back, lad. Lean back.
Are we ready with the thrust? Right, here we go, then.
One, two, three. Thrust!
Whoops.
See, without the thingummy, he was never going to do it.
That doesn't look like a lifetime spent on roofs.
He's not doing bad for a tea cosy.
Bog off!
- Mark where you're putting it! - Let go with your hands!
We can't help you if you're going to cling on.
Thrust. Thrust.
Thrust.
- Pack it in! - Thrust.
Thrust. Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust. Thrust.
Are you sure it's the ideal spot to poke Father Christmas?
I'm high enough! I'm high enough!
You're not high enough. You've got to get to the chimney.
Oh! I don't think he's trying.
Life's so unfair.
You feel such a fool at the end of a thingummy.
Hey! Don't let me go! Don't let me go!
- We're being attacked in the rear. - I'm supposed to be out shopping.
(both) Shut up, Barry. There's a good lad.
Hey! Oi! Watch where you're putting that thingummy!
Barry, I've never been one for giving unsolicited advice,
but I must warn you, lad -
never go looking about underneath a Father Christmas.
Are you ready up there?
- No! - He is! He is!
Now, remember, you lean casually back on the chimney
and lots of ''Ho, ho, ho!''
(Compo groans)
- Now do you believe in Father Christmas? - Here we go, then!
What does he mean ''we''?
One, two, three.
- Thrust! - Whoa!
Hey! Ooh! Argh!
No!
It's ''Ho, ho, ho.''
Whoa!
Why didn't you hold onto the chimney?
- I'm not going up again. - Don't pack it in. You were getting it right.
Right?! Sliding down a great long thingummy?
Well, that was the only thing that was wrong. All the rest was...
Will you do it for Nora?
What a Christmassy impression you could make on Nora.
I could score a few points there, Norm.
Are you sure about that?
I'm nearly sure.
Because I think you could probably get off on a plea of insanity.
Right! I'll do it!
You see what I mean?
Well, I shouldn't worry, Pearl. I don't think he's being unfaithful.
- But you can't be sure. - I can't give you a guarantee.
- You can't guarantee any of them. - Oh, I don't know.
They're all right as long as they've got some consuming interest.
With mine, it's motor cars.
He's only happy if he's up to the elbows, covered in grime.
With mine, it's pigeons. And they leave traces that take more shifting than grime.
- As long as it keeps them happy. - I wouldn't go so far as happy.
- As long as it keeps them at home. - How do you keep them at home?
Hasn't he got any pastimes of a recreational nature?
Too damn true he has. That's his trouble.
Oh, he'll settle down. They always do.
They find excitement very wearing.
- I wouldn't mind if it was anybody but her. - Oh, yes, you would.
Mrs Nuttall saw her getting off a bus in Halifax with a man.
Since when has it been a cardinal sin to get off a bus in Halifax with a man?
That Amy Nuttall wants to mind her own affairs.
She can't make mince pies, I can tell you.
She's got a very heavy hand with fat.
Can't people put their back into Christmas like we used to?
Oh, I don't know.
You should see the lovely cardigan Norman Clegg's put his back into
for my Howard.
If he thinks I believe that, he must think I believe in Father Christmas.
(tune of ''Jingle Bells'') ? Oh
? I love Nora Batty
? Nora she loves me
? I'd like to hang her undies
? On my Christmas tree
? Oh
? I love Nora Bat...
Whoa! Argh!
Argh!
Argh! Whoa!
Argh!
Arrrgh!
- Tell him to speak up. What's he saying? - (Compo chunters)
I don't think it's ''Ho, ho, ho.''
And it's not ''Merry Christmas'', either!
(Compo chunters)