Last time out, Santa fitted new front doors to the factory. This time out, a new doorbell was in order. Father Christmas categorises this as his “quest” to find the ideal doorbell and his obsession with his quest turns out to be ever so slightly deranged. Indeed.
Santa Seeks a New Doorball
Santa is a on a quest to find the ideal doorball. With the new factory gates fitted out back, rather than at the front (because of a technicality), Santa needs something to indicate to the factory that there is a bastard at the door who needs either slaying hideously, shooing away, or stealing their property. It needs to be a really, really, really, really, really good one. Like, when some communist or workshy freeloader presses the button it needs to COMMAND RESPECT and sound out as it is Satan braying from the heavens that someone is at the door and Markus, my head elf, needs to answer the, aforementioned, door and get the goods and/or slay the communist.
Thus, Santa got on the case to get the doorball. Santa looked up a company on The World Wide Internets and rang the doorball company over the phone, the company is located in Bolton of Greater Manchester. This is the conversation Santa endured.
“HELLO! Is this the doorball company?!” I bellowed down the phone.
“Wot?!”
“THE DOORBALL COMPANY?!” Santa roared.
After a long silence the response came, “We sell doorbells, mate.”
“THAT IS WHAT SANTA SAID! GIVE ME THE DOORBALL!” I roared once more.
“Mate, cram a sock in it with t’ shoutin’, what do you want?!?”
“A doorball for my Santa factory! I need one so when some communist or workshy freeloader presses the button it COMMANDS RESPECT and sounds out hard and long as if it is Satan braying from the heavens that someone is at the door and Markus, my head elf, needs to answer the, aforementioned, door and get the goods and/or slay the communist.”
The guy hung up on Santa after that statement and, outraged, I immediately went and put him on my official naughty list. A vast list condemning bastard SOBs to a Christmas 2026 with no presents. Serves them right! This was my note:
NAUGHTY LIST ENTRY 451,342,123: Doorball customer service guy. USELESS CUSTOMER SERVICE did not help Santa, did not get doorball, made Santa angry. NO PRESENTS.
That’s him condemned to a rubbish Christmas 2026 and he only has himself to blame.
The Quest for a Ringing Implement
Dissatisfied and dangerous following the customer service incident, Santa began drinking sherry. Santa had a good long think about stuff that makes ringing noises. This is the list I came up with, with some help from a stoned Rudolph and the odd manic bray from Kenneth the gaffer walrus:
- Bells
- Electronics
- Cymbals, gongs, triangles
- GOOOoRRUUGHHhhhhhhhh
- Santa requested further feedback on what Kenneth meant by that bray, will report back when he makes more sense later
- Struck anvils, crystal glassware
- Harps
- Doorballs
Santa got Markus, my head elf, on the case regarding the “GOOOoRRUUGHHhhhhhhhh” statement by Kenneth as I reckon he’s onto something there. Walruses know how to make a lot of noise, so perhaps it is in that slobbering oaf of a monster Santa can find a solution to this front door situation.
“Sir, Kenneth doesn’t know what anything like that is, he makes those noises because he’s a walrus and that’s what they do on an animalistic front.” Said Markus.
“NONSENSE, Markus. Do you want demoting!? Do you want Kenneth to take your place!?” I threatened the little bastard.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind it for a…”
“NONESENSE! You’re just jealous because Kenneth had a better idea than you. Study it! Study that statement! By the end of the day, I want a 10,000 word report on what GOOOoRRUUGHHhhhhhhhh is and how it can be used as a doorball implement. GET TO IT NOW, YOU SOB!” Santa then pelted the empty sherry bottle at the nearest wall and it shattered into a billion pieces.
Markus’ Findings Regarding “GOOOoRRUUGHHhhhhhhhh”
At the end of the day, Markus returned with a 9,145 word report on the statement. Santa immediately gave Markus, my head elf, a pay cut for not hitting the mandatory 10,000 words. The report itself was confusing because it had some big words in it Santa didn’t really understand, plus some statistics Santa didn’t really understand. So, Santa booted up my AI wife B2C AI Wife Production Centre Service Solution Platform Generator Ltd. and ran the report through her and had she condensed into the language of a 5 year old so I could understand it.
“Darling! Markus, your head elf, has come to the conclusion (“the end”, a kind of decision) that the statement (“GOOOoRRUUGHHhhhhhhhh”) by Kenneth the gaffer walrus was the sound a walrus makes in an attempt to attract a mate, as it is mating season. I hope that makes sense, sweetums. 😘”
BREAKTHROUGH! Santa duly had Kenneth the walrus replicate that GOOOoRRUUGHHhhhhhhhh noise, which I had Markus, my head elf, record on a recording device. The noise was the installed into a doorball, which Santa purchased from the shop in Bolton of Greater Manchester, which was flown in via helictoper, crash landed, exploded, and luckily the doorball survived. Double thumbs up! The sound effect was installed and we got on with our lives.
Walrus-Based Anarchy
After 24 hours of the new doorball being put to use (75 times from various product deliveries and 35 times for various Bolsheviks and communists whom were promptly tasered), something unexpected happened. Markus, my head elf, ran another report the next day, but it turns out the “GOOOoRRUUGHHhhhhhhhh” mating signal call that played out very loudly from the front door acted as a mating signal call across the North Pole.
Santa got up one morning hungover to all hell to find 1,500 walruses outside the factory gates engaged in what can ONLY be classed as an orgy! The indecency made Santa vomit (or maybe that was the hangover).
With walruses more or less as far as the eye could see, Santa hit the bottle with a vengeance. Then I called an emergency meeting in my Santa office.
“Markus! Where the hell is Kenneth!? Why isn’t he at this meeting!?”
“He’s engaged in the activities outside, sir.”
“Oh, the depravity!” I bellowed.
“Indeed, sir.” Markus squeaked.
There was only one thing for it. Santa had Markus dig out the old water cannons from the basement of factory unit 6. We got the elves to head out back and blast the walruses with those, disseminating them in a chaotic and enraged frenzy. In the stampede that followed, the walruses pulverised through various factory walls, clobbered off factory implements, and triggered multiple fires (the new front doors and doorball also went up in a ball of flames). The elves used the water cannons to douse the flames, but this is a significant setback for Christmas 2026! Markus has calculated we have 2% of our production targets met.
Worse was to follow.
Kenneth has hit it off with a walrus broad and insisted through manic braying Santa hire her into the workforce. He wants to marry her and they want many walrus babies. Santa tried to say no, but Kenneth pulverised me into the floor and broke one of my Santa legs… this hassle wasn’t worth it, so I later got her to slobber over a contract of employment and deemed that as a valid signature.
She’s called Linda. She’ll introduce herself in next week’s column. God help us.
