fulmar
17th Dec 2008, 22:49
I originally posted this about three years ago, but with the advent of K-RUD and friends I thought a mild update was warranted. Happy Christmas to all at PPrune.
Santa Express 2008
It’s that time of year again. The big man is getting ready to do his annual courier run to all the worlds kids (and biggies too!). Dunnunda is first on the list (the Kiwi’s weren’t good little boys this year) so Santa decides to have a little tropical mini-break first and then start his journey. Having overnighted and sampled the delights of Cairns he staggers towards his sleigh as an empty Bundy bottle falls out of his pocket. He muses that the capacity of Queenslanders to consume alcohol is in direct inversion to their capacity to speak intelligibly.
‘Better pre-flight the old bus’ he thinks. ‘hmmm… Engines OK (four of them, happily chewing cud), fuel on (more cud), anti-collision lights on (what pretty fairy lights), and sacks all packed (My, how full they are this year), seat belt and on… OK let’s go!!’
As he pulls out onto the taxiway he spies a vehicle approaching and a rather portly official gets out.
‘Scuse me Sir’ he says, ‘I represent the Cause All Santas Aggro Authority, CASA for short. I’m doing a routine ramp check. Can I see your load and balance sheet for this, emm, aircraft?’
Santa pulls out the relevant computer printout. It’s in five bound volumes.
‘It’s a bit big’ says the CASA man.
‘What do you expect?’ says Santa. ‘I’ve 1 billion, 925 million, 672 thousand, four hundred and forty four children to deliver to. And then I’ve got to start on the grown ups’
‘So’, says CASA, ‘How can you explain the fact that your manifest says two sacks at 2 cubic metres, weight 123,000 tonnes’
‘I’m also a magician’ says Santa smugly.
‘Hang on’ the CASA man goes on ‘this isn’t a private flight, you must be running a freight charter- where’s your AOC?’
Rolling his eyes the big man reaches under his hat and pulls out the relevant document.
CASA reads it and warns ‘look, I won’t do you this time but be careful- this AOC is only valid for one night you know. And another thing- we start Drug and Alcohol testing next month so I’ll be watching for you!’
Santa gets back onto the sled but before he can get going another vehicle approaches- this one with menacing flashing blue lights.
‘Hold it right there….Sir…’ grunts a rather heavily armed individual. I’m a representative of the Department of Irritating and Testing Regulations, Dreadful Laws and Governance, Office of Troll Security – DIT-TURD for short. Our surveillance cameras picked up a suspicious person. You. And we’d like to know what you are doing.’
Santa thought of the famous prayer ‘Oh Lord please give all people on this world the precious gift of patience- but I want mine NOW!’ ‘I’m an authorized courier delivering time sensitive parcels’
You aren’t DHL or Fedex are you?’ said DIT-TURD. ‘If you are I want to see a copy of your freight Transport Security Programme. Anyway, our cameras picked up a suspicious individual’
‘What the he… sorry, what on earth is wrong with me?’ Said Santa.
‘You have a beard’ said DIT-TURD,’ that’s suss for a start. And then those bright red clothes- a bit out of the ordinary wouldn’t you think?’
‘Look!’ said Santa, ‘I’m blo…. I’m blooming well Santa Clause! You know, the gift bringer, friend of kids, reindeer driver, ho ho ho and all that twaddling!’
‘ID?’ said DIT-TURD, ‘Where’s your ASIC?’
‘Whats an ASIC?” demands an increasingly red-faced Santa.
‘And that’s another thing’ says the man ‘your skin colour. It’s getting more and more dusky. That’s another thing we look for’
‘Anyway’, he continues, ‘an ASIC is an Australian Santa Identification Card. It’s mandatory now at all ports and airports. You need a full background ID check before we issue one you know!’ he says pompously.
Santa wonders who could possibly do a background check on him and what would they find? Breach of employment regulations by having so many unpaid elves? OH&S breaches by not having heating? Too many stamps in his passport? Then he thinks.
‘I don’t need an ASIC! I have diplomatic status!’
‘Of which country may I ask?’
‘The North Pole!’ Santa says triumphantly.
This deflates the bureaucrat. ‘OK, you can go but watch it. We don’t like strange people around our airports you know!’
Finally Saint Nick can get going. ‘Up Dancer and Prancer!’ he cries, ‘Up into the wide blue yonder! Lets get these presents delivered while we still can!’
And away they go into the dark night sky.
‘Aircraft tracking 180, 25 thousand 5 miles south of Longreach please identify’ a voice goes off in his ear.
‘This is Santa Express One Heavy’ he broadcasts. ‘Tracking 180 for all points Australia’
‘Squawk 2512 and ident’
Santa does as he is told.
‘Express One Heavy your flight plan not received stay outside of controlled airspace and resume own navigation’
‘Blow this’ thinks Santa, ‘Brisbane centre, can’t you make an exception for me? It is Christmas after all’
‘Express One Heavy this is Brisbane Centre. Oh all right, just this once- But steer clear of Rudd’s electorate just to the south of us or he’ll have your guts for garters’
The sleigh drones on.
“Err, Express One heavy this is Brisbane Centre. Airservices Australia accounting have called us and your en-route charge for this flight will be $23 million in view of your declared weight and destinations’
‘So send the bill to the North Pole!!’ thinks Santa ‘Express One Heavy affirmative’
It’s a beautiful night down under. The stars twinkle and the ribbon of lights that denote civilization gets bigger and bigger.
‘Err, Sydney Tower this is Santa Express One Heavy. Request low pass over all suburbs for courier delivery operations’
‘Express One heavy this is Sydney. Request denied. Remain clear of controlled airspace’
‘For what reason Sydney?’
‘It’s the curfew old boy’ says Sydney’ We can’t have aircraft disturbing the little kiddies sleep can we- after all it IS Christmas’
‘But for crying out loud!’ says Santa’ I don’t make any noise’
‘Maybe not but a curfew is a curfew. After all we have to keep the air clear for Santa you know’
‘But I AM Santa you dic…. Idiot!!’
‘Oh are you?’ Says Sydney. ‘Describe yourself then’
Santa does so- the usual red outfit, white beard black belt red nose deal.
‘Nope’ says Sydney tower’ you don’t comply with my faxed description of Santa. What I have here is 50-55 year old male, graying hair, glasses, supercilious smug face.”
‘That’s Wayne Swan you twonkl’ screams Santa
‘Sorry can’t let you in. Complain to Albanese if you want. byee….’
Santa stares into the darkness. Where to go to? He has the entire world to deliver to and he isn’t yet at first base.
‘No time’ he thinks. ‘I’d better dump all the Australian presents’ somewhere and then bingo off to the next port of call. But where?’ So he starts calling other airports and gets much the same reply. It’s a bit like trying to put a toxic waste dump somewhere. Everyone’s a NIMBY at this time of night. Finally he thinks ‘ADELAIDE!! The city of churches! They are bound to take all my presents. So he calls Adelaide approach’
‘Adelaide Approach Express One Heavy requesting landing clearance for urgent freight offload, refuel and departure’
‘Express One Heavy this is Adelaide. Wilco but be advised that no fuel available. Our new terminal building has still not been cleared for hydrant fuelling’
Santa really does not have time any more so he dumps the lot at Adelaide and takes off with minimum fuel for his next destination.
‘OK’ thinks Santa’ at least that lot is out of the way. So what’s my next destination?’
He looks in his flight plan.
‘Ah Ha!’ he says ‘Such an apt place to go! They are bound to welcome me. Come on guys, let’s go to Christmas Island!!’
‘Christmas Island Control this is Santa Express One heavy with you at 35 inbound with lots of presents for your kids!’
‘Err Express One Heavy this is Christmas Island Control. Landing approval not confirmed please contact Border Control for further details’
‘Border Control…?”
“Illegal immigrants old boy, …. Toodle pip!”’
Santa Express 2008
It’s that time of year again. The big man is getting ready to do his annual courier run to all the worlds kids (and biggies too!). Dunnunda is first on the list (the Kiwi’s weren’t good little boys this year) so Santa decides to have a little tropical mini-break first and then start his journey. Having overnighted and sampled the delights of Cairns he staggers towards his sleigh as an empty Bundy bottle falls out of his pocket. He muses that the capacity of Queenslanders to consume alcohol is in direct inversion to their capacity to speak intelligibly.
‘Better pre-flight the old bus’ he thinks. ‘hmmm… Engines OK (four of them, happily chewing cud), fuel on (more cud), anti-collision lights on (what pretty fairy lights), and sacks all packed (My, how full they are this year), seat belt and on… OK let’s go!!’
As he pulls out onto the taxiway he spies a vehicle approaching and a rather portly official gets out.
‘Scuse me Sir’ he says, ‘I represent the Cause All Santas Aggro Authority, CASA for short. I’m doing a routine ramp check. Can I see your load and balance sheet for this, emm, aircraft?’
Santa pulls out the relevant computer printout. It’s in five bound volumes.
‘It’s a bit big’ says the CASA man.
‘What do you expect?’ says Santa. ‘I’ve 1 billion, 925 million, 672 thousand, four hundred and forty four children to deliver to. And then I’ve got to start on the grown ups’
‘So’, says CASA, ‘How can you explain the fact that your manifest says two sacks at 2 cubic metres, weight 123,000 tonnes’
‘I’m also a magician’ says Santa smugly.
‘Hang on’ the CASA man goes on ‘this isn’t a private flight, you must be running a freight charter- where’s your AOC?’
Rolling his eyes the big man reaches under his hat and pulls out the relevant document.
CASA reads it and warns ‘look, I won’t do you this time but be careful- this AOC is only valid for one night you know. And another thing- we start Drug and Alcohol testing next month so I’ll be watching for you!’
Santa gets back onto the sled but before he can get going another vehicle approaches- this one with menacing flashing blue lights.
‘Hold it right there….Sir…’ grunts a rather heavily armed individual. I’m a representative of the Department of Irritating and Testing Regulations, Dreadful Laws and Governance, Office of Troll Security – DIT-TURD for short. Our surveillance cameras picked up a suspicious person. You. And we’d like to know what you are doing.’
Santa thought of the famous prayer ‘Oh Lord please give all people on this world the precious gift of patience- but I want mine NOW!’ ‘I’m an authorized courier delivering time sensitive parcels’
You aren’t DHL or Fedex are you?’ said DIT-TURD. ‘If you are I want to see a copy of your freight Transport Security Programme. Anyway, our cameras picked up a suspicious individual’
‘What the he… sorry, what on earth is wrong with me?’ Said Santa.
‘You have a beard’ said DIT-TURD,’ that’s suss for a start. And then those bright red clothes- a bit out of the ordinary wouldn’t you think?’
‘Look!’ said Santa, ‘I’m blo…. I’m blooming well Santa Clause! You know, the gift bringer, friend of kids, reindeer driver, ho ho ho and all that twaddling!’
‘ID?’ said DIT-TURD, ‘Where’s your ASIC?’
‘Whats an ASIC?” demands an increasingly red-faced Santa.
‘And that’s another thing’ says the man ‘your skin colour. It’s getting more and more dusky. That’s another thing we look for’
‘Anyway’, he continues, ‘an ASIC is an Australian Santa Identification Card. It’s mandatory now at all ports and airports. You need a full background ID check before we issue one you know!’ he says pompously.
Santa wonders who could possibly do a background check on him and what would they find? Breach of employment regulations by having so many unpaid elves? OH&S breaches by not having heating? Too many stamps in his passport? Then he thinks.
‘I don’t need an ASIC! I have diplomatic status!’
‘Of which country may I ask?’
‘The North Pole!’ Santa says triumphantly.
This deflates the bureaucrat. ‘OK, you can go but watch it. We don’t like strange people around our airports you know!’
Finally Saint Nick can get going. ‘Up Dancer and Prancer!’ he cries, ‘Up into the wide blue yonder! Lets get these presents delivered while we still can!’
And away they go into the dark night sky.
‘Aircraft tracking 180, 25 thousand 5 miles south of Longreach please identify’ a voice goes off in his ear.
‘This is Santa Express One Heavy’ he broadcasts. ‘Tracking 180 for all points Australia’
‘Squawk 2512 and ident’
Santa does as he is told.
‘Express One Heavy your flight plan not received stay outside of controlled airspace and resume own navigation’
‘Blow this’ thinks Santa, ‘Brisbane centre, can’t you make an exception for me? It is Christmas after all’
‘Express One Heavy this is Brisbane Centre. Oh all right, just this once- But steer clear of Rudd’s electorate just to the south of us or he’ll have your guts for garters’
The sleigh drones on.
“Err, Express One heavy this is Brisbane Centre. Airservices Australia accounting have called us and your en-route charge for this flight will be $23 million in view of your declared weight and destinations’
‘So send the bill to the North Pole!!’ thinks Santa ‘Express One Heavy affirmative’
It’s a beautiful night down under. The stars twinkle and the ribbon of lights that denote civilization gets bigger and bigger.
‘Err, Sydney Tower this is Santa Express One Heavy. Request low pass over all suburbs for courier delivery operations’
‘Express One heavy this is Sydney. Request denied. Remain clear of controlled airspace’
‘For what reason Sydney?’
‘It’s the curfew old boy’ says Sydney’ We can’t have aircraft disturbing the little kiddies sleep can we- after all it IS Christmas’
‘But for crying out loud!’ says Santa’ I don’t make any noise’
‘Maybe not but a curfew is a curfew. After all we have to keep the air clear for Santa you know’
‘But I AM Santa you dic…. Idiot!!’
‘Oh are you?’ Says Sydney. ‘Describe yourself then’
Santa does so- the usual red outfit, white beard black belt red nose deal.
‘Nope’ says Sydney tower’ you don’t comply with my faxed description of Santa. What I have here is 50-55 year old male, graying hair, glasses, supercilious smug face.”
‘That’s Wayne Swan you twonkl’ screams Santa
‘Sorry can’t let you in. Complain to Albanese if you want. byee….’
Santa stares into the darkness. Where to go to? He has the entire world to deliver to and he isn’t yet at first base.
‘No time’ he thinks. ‘I’d better dump all the Australian presents’ somewhere and then bingo off to the next port of call. But where?’ So he starts calling other airports and gets much the same reply. It’s a bit like trying to put a toxic waste dump somewhere. Everyone’s a NIMBY at this time of night. Finally he thinks ‘ADELAIDE!! The city of churches! They are bound to take all my presents. So he calls Adelaide approach’
‘Adelaide Approach Express One Heavy requesting landing clearance for urgent freight offload, refuel and departure’
‘Express One Heavy this is Adelaide. Wilco but be advised that no fuel available. Our new terminal building has still not been cleared for hydrant fuelling’
Santa really does not have time any more so he dumps the lot at Adelaide and takes off with minimum fuel for his next destination.
‘OK’ thinks Santa’ at least that lot is out of the way. So what’s my next destination?’
He looks in his flight plan.
‘Ah Ha!’ he says ‘Such an apt place to go! They are bound to welcome me. Come on guys, let’s go to Christmas Island!!’
‘Christmas Island Control this is Santa Express One heavy with you at 35 inbound with lots of presents for your kids!’
‘Err Express One Heavy this is Christmas Island Control. Landing approval not confirmed please contact Border Control for further details’
‘Border Control…?”
“Illegal immigrants old boy, …. Toodle pip!”’