A year has come and gone since VR's Christmas was placed in severe jeopardy in an easily forgettable tale that thrilled one and all. Since then national and religious holidays have come and passed peacefully and enjoyably, although there was the bank holiday incident involving a Lawful Hippo, some jam and a toastie machine. The residents of VR can laugh about it now though, oh Lord - there was jam everywhere!
However as all sad -acts VR regulars will know, the position of Christmas is a rocky one on the VR calender. Friends have been won and lost, lives been ripped apart and souls have gone astray...since the Abyss was pulled down and there's been a slight disgruntlement over the festive periods as well.
And in the old abandoned Abyss caves on the outskirts of town, our traditional yule - tide hero sits, twiddling his thumbs and dreaming of working in an Irish bar in the Manchester city centre, every young boys dream.
"Mr. Flapper! Mr. Flapper! The Mayor needs you quick!"
Young Flapper was startled, and a little shaken, mainly due to the 5 bottles of Buckfast he had drank the previous hour.
"What, what is it?" replies our gallant Christmas crusader.
"Someone is trying to steal Christmas! We need your help in saving the day yet again!"
When Flapper focused his eyes he saw no other than Amy, the elusive of all mooses...meese? Meeses? The most elusive of all animals that was waving her arms frantically and stomping in his nice clean cave. Naturaly upset at her unnaturally large feet making a mess in his clean abode, Bob Flapper put that behind him and stumbled to the VR town hall, expecting to see Mayor Pandora in his usual frantic state.
"Mayor Pandora it's been too long, what happened to our lunch meeting at...whoa whoa whoa! Sweet chid o'mine! Who are you just off the nightrain, knocking on heaven's door and welcoming me to your Jungle?!"
"Ah," started the squirrelish new Mayor. "I'm the new guv'nor round here Flapper man. I go by the name of Dan the Squirrel...because my surname is too large for me to spell or for you to understand"
Before Flapper could respond, in came the new Mayor's assistant.
"Phil, you ginger fool! What is it now?"
"Sorry your greatness, sir oh sir" Said old ginger Phil "but your wife just sent this fax in!"
"Thank you Phil that'll be all...Good blazes Flapper! This is why I called you out of your cave! Some dirty scoundrel has been stealing Christmas all over VR! My wife just told me someone has raided our house and stole all our Christmas presents, decorations and festive joy!"
"Sorry mate, anything valuable nicked?"
"Not really. Nothing I can't replace with my enourmous wealth. I vote Conservative don't you know"
"Good for you"
"Now, back to the point. The only lead we have is that forensics keep finding outrageously ginger hairs at all the crime scenes. Our police force is rubbish, we need you to track down this villain and get Christmas back for VR!"
"No"
"Ah go on, I'll give you a load of money"
"Oh go on then"
Our hero started on his mission by seeking out the biggest snitch he knew for any clues or knowledge of this evil Ginger thief. Darren Tell - All, a suitable double barrel surname for a snitch with the hair of a thousand blonde weasels and a willingness to snitch unlike no other.
"Darren, you snitch!" Yelled Flapper, trying to get the aggressive higher ground
"Not any more mate," retorted Tell - All. "I give up snitching last June, I'm a roadie for The Shadows now. Apache and all that"
"Really?"
"I'll only tell you for the right price"
"Ah Darren, you screwy rabbit! Enough tom foolery I'm afraid, I need information regarding the identity of this Ginger bloke that's doing the rounds"
"Not before I find out, let me tell you that! He broke into my place last night and stole the sexy underwear i bought my wife!"
"You're married now?"
"No, I just like wearing girl's pants. DAMN! I'm so sneaky I snitch on myself! Curses!"
"Thanks anyway Darren and rest assured, I'll get your frilly knickers back, you can count on me"
Now suffering the double trauma of giant footmarks in his home and the image of Darren in French knickers, Flapper realised this wasn't going to be an easy mission. He needed the help of his old trusty partner - young Alan.
"Flapper! It's great to be back!"
"I know Alan, it'll be just like old times"
"Actually no, I don't experiment that way anymore"
"...When did you ever?"
"Ah that's right you were asleep, you didn't notice"
"Yeah, I do sleep a lot. Anyway, what have you managed to gather about this villain?"
"Well there is one fellow all signs are pointing towards, but I'm not sure. Did you get anything out of Darren the snitch?"
"No he's a roadie for the Shadows now. Apache and all that"
"Is he really?"
"As far as I'm concerned, that's the only image that'll keep the horrifying truth out of my head, so yes"
They departed, to the old side of the town where their suspect would rather have an O than an I, was ginger and was quick and nimble enough to steal presents without anyone noticing.
"Ah Marton, we meet again" Flapper said, after breaking down Marton's door with a flying Karate kick taught to him by Chuck Norris himself.
"What are you doing here? I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again after you sent me down for 6 years!"
"You drew pictures on five pound notes, you brought that on yourself. You'll be doing life this time you ruffian, you can't steal Christmas in this town whilst I'm still living here!"
"f*ck Yeah!" Added Alan, who felt awkward following a testosterone filled exchange. Alan stopped producing testosterone when he was 15, through choice.
"You've lost it Flapper" Marton sneered, "I didn't steal Christmas. That's too big a job for me as well you know. The only lead you have to go on is the fact that I'm ginger, isn't it?"
"Not tellin''"
"Hah," Marton sneered. "If anything, I'm a victim in this sorry debacle. I lost the one precious thing in my life - my Holly bush and dancing Santa ornament. Even though they are two things, my heart can't take the strain of losing two loves so I lie and pretend I only lost one. Now I've turned to Hanukkah. It's alright I supposse, If Christmas is a steak dinner, Hanukkah would be a fish supper from the chippy. No, you're barking up the wrong tree you no good do - gooder. I'll tell you this though, word on the street says this Christmas thieving malarky goes straight to city hall. Things haven't been the same since Pandora left. Now get out of my house!"
That left Flapper and young Alan with a lot to ponder.
"Straight to City hall Flapper? Can we believe anything that man says?"
"Maybe. I don't know young Alan, he's got his ear closer to the ground than we do. I know for a fact he idolised that dancing Santa ornament. It does leave us a lot to ponder"
As they walked, stroking their chins in thought, inspiration hit Flapper as he passed by a phone box -
"Young Alan! To the wh*re house!"
"Yay!"
To the seedy back alleys of town, our heroes found Denesha's wh*re house, financed almost entirely by a secret Scottish millionare banker.
"Welcome to Scotch Brothel boys" said receptionist and owner Denesha, "what will it be today?"
"This isn't a social visit Miss-"
"Eh?"
"Shut up Alan. Oh for...put that away! Go outside and stand in the cold. Sorry about that, I'm looking for the redhead"
"Natural redhead?"
"Yes"
"We've moved her downstairs to the bargain basment. The only thing lower than her room is her prices. Head on down"
Off he went, down the flight of stairs that were rife with ginger hair. Not for the first time, Flapper was getting excited in this wh*rehouse and felt the end was near.
"Are you underwhelmed?"
"Only when I get customers like you" said Sarah, or as she preferred to be known, Lady Underwhelmed.
"You know anything about...Christmas?"
"Yeah, something to do with a Coca Cola truck. I hate this season of good will to be honest."
"Hate it enough to...STEAL IT?!"
"Probably"
"Really? You sole Christmas?"
"Someone stole Christmas? Nah love, weren't me. I thought it was still Hallowe'en"
"Ah, that explains the mask"
"Excuse me?"
"Ah...no...nothing. Look, if you hear anything let me know"
"I might not be much help darlin', but if you want answers, you better head down to the Horses Arms, the toughest pub this side of Mos Eisley. All the deadbeats and no - hopers hang around there"
"Cheers Lady Underwhelmed. Here, have some skittles"
"Yay! I really CAN taste the rainbow!"
The Horses Arms wasn't just any old rough bar, no no. This was the original rough bar. It got it's name for a legendary old horse called Jack the Horse who allegedly took a disliking to his rider and so ripped off his arms and carried them wherever he rode just to mock his owner. Just as the horse was a hard a*s, so were the regulars.
"We're looking for information" Flapper told the Bartender.
"You don't be causing any trouble round here Flapper, you have history with most of these folks"
"What do you mean bartender?"
"Take a look around boy. Her in the corner? That's Amy UnitedTruth. You jailed her dad for claiming Motorhead were a better live act than Thin Lizzy in their heyday. Him over there, Pablo Marmite - you burned his pub down and set fire to his parents - "
"I don't remember that"
"Oh it happened, you were wasted. So was I like and it was funny at the time but looking back, uncalled for. Martin over that, remember him? You stole 3 of his toes to build yourself the perfect wife."
"He does have feminine feet. Look, I better miss this one out, Alan - find out what you can"
Alan, looking bewildered, decided to take up the responsibility dealt to him. One person caught his eye, there she was in the corner with a pint of Stout and a purple leopardskin coat on her her shoulders.
"Claire I presume?"
"What's it to you little man?" Came the defensive backlash.
"I'm not here to make an enemy doll face, nor am I here to look for friends. Just answer my questions and I'll be out of your hair."
"I like your style. I especially like how you called me dollface, you remind me of my first husband, Joseph. God rest his soul. Ask of me what you will."
"Christmas is being stolen, we're looking for whoever is doing it."
"Hmmm...yeah I can help you out shrimp. Me and the Mayor have a thing going on behind his wife's back. Whilst he was taking a phone call last night I had a look around and I stumbled onto the stolen Christmas loot. It was his lacky, ginger Phil who has been upto it. Afterwards, me and the mayor played Toried - he was Hesseltine and I pretended to be Edwina Curry. Hmmm..."
"Thanks Claire, I'll be on my way now...Bye...erm...Yeah"
"Ohh...*giggle*...Mr Hesseltine..."
An informed Flapper and young Alan rushed to city hall, where they cornered ginger Phil with accusations.
"The gig's up Phil! You're going to the jailhouse tonight my boy!" Exclaimed Flapper.
"Lilac Claire told us everything!" pipped Young Alan.
"Damn you! Look, I don't want to go to prison, I was only doing what I was told!"
"Wha?! Doing what you're told?" said a puzzled Flapper.
"I have no want or need to steal Christmas! It was her! She made me do it!"
"Who Phil? Who made you do it?" asked our heroes.
"The real power in the city. She owns every Brussel Sprout in England...she goes by the name of Emma. Look I can give you her address, I'm going to undo my wrongs and give Christmas back to the people. I will be a tool no longer!"
"Nice Bloke" said young Alan
"Quite" agreed Flapper.
Having got the real bad guy, Alan and Flapper headed to the Notorious Emma, to end this once and for all.
"It's over Emma, Phil is handing Christmas back to the people. Your plans have been destroyed!" exclaimed Flapper!
"f*ck yeah!" Added Alan, who really couldn't have said much else.
"Damn you Flapper, I underestimated you!" Said the disgruntled Sprout chief. "I figured if no one had Christmas stuff then they'd want the only thing that could remind them of Christmas - Sprouts. Sprout sales would have went through the roof. I got the Squirrel into office because all his staff are sprout addicts and would do as they're told. I obviously underestimated the power of love, raining down from above."
"f*ck Yeah!"
"That's enough Alan. You'll do serious time for this Emma, your sprout dealing days are over."
"And I would have gotten away with it to, if it wasn't for you meddling Celts!"
"Celts?" asked a perplexed Flapper
"Yeah, Scottish and Irish. That's why you're wearing Kilts?"
"Oh yeah...Kilts...yeah...up the Celts!"
"Darren had something similiar to those you know...
"Shut up! Go to Jail!"
And so our festive tale ends. Flapper and young Alan went their seperate ways. Vladimir Putin displaced Dan the Squirrel from Mayor's office, Phil kept his job despite theft on a scale never seen before and Emma dodged a jail sentence because there was no room left in the prisons. Have a happy Christmas a decent Hanukah and a disappointing New Year!
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