Your Good Elf and Merry Xmas

Curious. Late last night I was having a quick drink in one of our lovely backstreet pubs here in Cambridge. If you're ever in town you must visit The Jubilee - it's simply delightful - in its own unique way. Anyway I heard raised voices coming from the back room and popped my head round to investigate.

As you can imagine I was rather surprised when it turned out there was a packed meeting of the Elves, Reindeer and Associated Helpers Union (ERAHU) going on. It was all getting irate and the chair was having difficulty maintaining control.

"Brothers, sisters, order now. Let's keep the discussion fraternal shall we."

"All I'm saying," piped up a stocky elf near the front, "all I'm saying is that if you think all it takes is wearing red and a jolly smile to make you a lefty your living in cloud cuckoo land mate."

A group of surly elves near the back tutted and hissed, and after being nudged by his friends one put up his hand and said, "Look, it's the ultimate re-distributative act. Regardless of their ability to pay every child gets gifts."

"Oh yeah," the same elf near the front, "you reckon Pinochet's kids got the same as the kids in the Barrio do you? How come it's always the children of the rich that get the most expensive presents? That's not redistribution, pal, that's deepening the inequalities entrenched in the system."

"May I speak." This from one bespectacled figure at the back "International Elvish League here," everyone in the audience groaned, "Claus represents the attrophied remnants of an all ready dead capitalism. All it takes is for ERAHU to stop preventing the spontaneous upsurge of the masses and the whole rotten system will come tumbling down."

"Shut up!"

"Well, now, hold on. If we were to form Elven Militias and take over the means of magical production we can turn this festival of reactionary patronage, rewarding the supine lackies who obey their orders all year round, into a new and glorious age of the dictorship of all Fairy kind."

The chair banged his gavel as laughter broke out. "Stop that."

"We can't even sort out Elf and Safety let alone lead a rebelion." More groans.

"This is serious," said the Elf at the front, "What's the career prospects of being an Elf. Elf, elf, elf, elf, retire then die. When do we get to be Santa? How come it's the old, fat white guy who's always top of the heap?" Mutterings of assent at that.

"But you have to admit," this from a quiet looking, skinny elf seated on the floor near the exit, "he does do a lot of work for the children. He doesn't ask for a penny in return for what must be, oh, millions of presents."

"If you want to be bought off by cheap, consumerist tat that's your problem buddy. Don't rock the boat and you might get a Barbie at the end of the year? How about a bit of respect? How about recognising that those presents don't pop out of nowhere, hard Elven graft goes into them and not a penny do we see for it. He's promoting a something for nothing culture - one where the highest ideal is commodities."

The IEL speaker pushed his way forwards, "I quite agree, the unending misery and degradation of life under the current system cannot be offset with an annual bribe that so often ends up to be ill fitting jumpers or pointless nik naks. When's he going to start distributing grenades? You can't tell me kids wouldn't love those for Christmas!"

"It's the unending misery of listening to you talk that I'm worried about!" More laughter.

It was at this point I decided that I should withdraw and finish my pint. I couldn't help thinking though - the Elf had a point - kids would love to get grenades for Christmas, yet somehow they never show up in their stockings.