We did this at our Christmas giog the other day. Went down well, although what I condsider the best line didn't land.

RUDOLPH: [Excited] Everybody ready for the off? Up, up and away! [Whooshing noise]

DANCER: [Definitely not excited] Yeah, right.

R: Follow my nose, my little ones, I'll guide you!

D: We're not your little ones. I'm fed up with you calling us your little ones. You're not in charge of me, you just happen to be in front, that's all.

R: Sorry, didn't catch that, little one.

D: You're not my boss, Rudolph, you just happen to be positioned in this sleigh team such that your buttocks are directly in front of my face. It's not a managerial hierarchy.

R: Oh, that's just typical of you Dancer. You've always hated me.

D: What are you talking about?

R: All the lot of you: you, Donner, Blitzen, all the others whose names I can never remember, you hate me. You call me names.

D: We call you Rudolph.

R: Well, that's a name, isn't it? And you won't let me join in any of your reindeer games.

D: Reindeer games? What games are you talking about?

R: You know...antlerball.

D: We don't play games, we're reindeer. If we're not yanking a magical sleigh about, we spend our time eating and rutting, and that's all. Except perhaps fighting about who gets to do the most eating and rutting.

R: Well, you don't let me join in. Is it because of my nose?

D: Oh, here we go; I knew your nose would come up at some point. Nobody, Rudolph, has any problem with your nose except you. You're always on about it. It's not even that red.

R: Aha! So you do think I've got a red nose! I knew it, that's discrimination, that is.

D: No, you think you've got a red nose. I'd never even noticed it till you started going on about it every waking hour.

R: Well, I'll tell you who did notice it: Santa Claus! Yes, the big man himself. Why do you think I'm here, in charge of the sleigh?

D: You're not in charge of the-

R: Why do you think that? Because my rosy, red nose is useful in the fog.

D: God, it gets worse every year. Look, it doesn't matter how rubicund your little proboscis might be, it's not red enough for illumination purposes.

R: Well, why did I get asked to join that time then, eh?

D: It's because there are more children now than there used to be, so the increase in deliverable presents demanded a slightly larger towing force. It had been foggy in the past, you know. I suspect a man who can levitate a sleigh round the world at near light speed isn't troubled by a bit of mist of an evening.

R: Alright then, clever hooves, why am I at the front, if not for my astounding olfactory face torch?

D: I imagine it was the easiest way to amend the harness.

R: No. It wasn't. It was because of my glowing head beacon.

D: Look, Rudolph, we have two continents to go yet, and I really don't want to argue with you, but I just don't think that a mild mutation of nasal pigment was a big factor in your recruitment, OK?

R: Mild mutation of nasal pigment? It bloody glows, mate. I'll have you know that people say it glows.

D: Who does? Who says it glows?

R: Well, you might. If you saw it.

D: I have seen it. It's just a normal nose, with a very slight reddish tint, about which you're completely delusional. Now, if you don't shut your stinking mouth I shall give you such a battering when we get back to Greenland, get me?

R: [Sheepish] Yes.

D: Good.

[Pause]

BLITZEN: Dancer, I think you were maybe a little harsh on poor Rudolph.

D: Oh, leave it out, Blitzen, I'll do what I like. I'm in charge, OK? Who has the giant purple ballbag in this reindeer troupe, anyway?

Here's another, just for fun - I think this was written for a Skit Comp, but I forget.

BARTHOLOMEW: Good afternoon, sire.

KING: Ah, Bartholomew, come in.

B: Thank you, sire. May I present the archbishop?

ARCHBISHOP: Your servant, my lord.

K: Welcome, father. What news, Bartholomew?

B: There is a mighty storm abroad, sire.

K: Hmmm?

A: Oh, yes. Thunder crashes like the devil, lightning slashes through the heavens, and water comes out of the sky. Downwards.

B: At quite a rate.

K: ...Right.

A: It's a hell of a storm, my lord.

K: Well, I dare say, but that isn't the sort of thing I normally grant an official audience to discuss.

B: All the same, we thought it was noteworthy.

A: We thought you might...

B: [Plucking up courage] We thought you might like to take a look.

K: A look?!

B: Out of the, err, out of the window.

L: Bartholomew, you should know better; and you, archbishop, a man of the cloth, I'm shocked. You know full well how I feel about that sort of activity, don't you?

B & A: Yes, king Wences.

K: I don't go looking out of the window willy-nilly like a common trout-herder. It's not regal.

A: Yes, we know that, sire. But...it's just some of your subjects think you should just look out of the window every now and again. They like it.

B: It's called PR, sire.

K: BS, more like. I shall not be poking my God-anointed crown from that window like a paltry strumpet for anyone. Do you know, Archbishop, when I last looked out?

A: No, sire.

K: The Feast of Stephen.

B: [Whisper] Boxing Day.

A: And, naturally, a king may cast his royal gaze wheree'er he please, but, some of the people are becoming restless. They feel that you have abandoned them, by always looking in, and never out.

K: Nonsense. You know, the last time I looked out, it was all snowy and there were some chaps there, and they were just thrilled to see me. Good tidings we bring, they said, to you and your king. And, you know, I said, that doesn't really make sense, old man, because I am the king, you see, and we had a good old chuckle about that.

B: Ah, but the public is fickle. They expect you to make state visits...to the window. And if you don't, well...

K: Well what? They wouldn't turn on Good King Wences.

A: Ah, sire, they don't call you Good King Wences any more.

K: What do they call me?

A: King Wences.

B: And sometimes, King Wences, The Infrequent-Looker-Outer.

K: Oh, this is bad, very bad.

B: And there's been civil unrest in Wencesbad, in which 500 people died.

K: Stick to the important stuff, can't you, Bartholomew?

B: Where they also burnt an effigy of your window.

K: Good garnishes, what am I to do? I can't just start looking out all of a sudden, like it's going out of fashion, they'll know I bow to public pressure.

B: I have taken the liberty, sire, of bringing in advice from neighbouring crowned heads, who have weathered similar civil unrest with dignity.

K: Capital! A fellow king, eh? Let's get him in here.

B: Not just one king, sire.

A: [Calling] Show in the 3 kings!

SFX: Bustle of entering retinue.

K: Gentlemen, gentlemen, welcome. Tell me, how fare things in the great land of Orientare?

Awesome. A friend and I did this at a recent Christmas bash. I wrote it for the skit comp too - ages ago - but tarted it up a tad.

SANTA'S CLAUSE

POLICE STATION.

POLICEMAN interviewing SANTA:

SANTA Is this Santa being interrogated in a police station?

POLICEMAN No, it's a clumsy set-up for a sketch.

SANTA Ho ho ho.

POLICEMAN Mr Clause, you are hereby charged that on the 24th of December you broke into a house, drank its owner's whiskey and went straight into his kid's bedroom.

SANTA Yes, I needed to unload my sack.

POLICEMAN I see... Why?

SANTA For the sprog. I had sweeties for him.

POLICEMAN Perv.

SANTA But it's the tradition.

POLICEMAN That's no excuse.

SANTA I'm Nicholas.

POLICEMAN No panties either?

SANTA I need to fill stockings...

POLICEMAN Tranny too eh?

SANTA I - I had the parents' consent.

POLICEMAN That's what Michael Jackson said... I'm sorry Knickerless, there's no way anyone gets away with kiddie-diddlin'.

SANTA I'm a celebrity. And celebrate Christmas, so a man of the church.

POLICEMAN You're free.

Meant to do this oldie too, but my mate was outa the country.

LIKE A VIRGIN

BEDROOM.

A MAN is getting excited over a WOMAN...

MAN Right, you horny little temptress you! Been saving yerself up all virginal for me in'cha, well now's the moment I been waitin' for! Come here you innocent old sauce-pot, I'm deflowering yer!

WOMAN Um - Joseph...

MAN What, Mary?

WOMAN There's something I have to tell you... Let's not beat about the bush...

MAN That's precisely what I'm planning on doing.

WOMAN I - I'm pregnant.

MAN Oh my God...

WOMAN Yes that's who.

MAN I mean - Jesus...

WOMAN Right again.

MAN You just can't trust women can yer.

WOMAN You don't understand.

MAN Oh fandabidozy. I mean that's just swell, and I don't mean my tackle. First she says she's a tarty slapper, then she says I don't know nowt about the birds and the bees. Well I may be just a simple carpenter, not one of those poncey students burning down houses in protest, but...

WOMAN My son will be God.

MAN Typical woman - ooh look at my kid, I think he's God, he thinks I'm a Virgin, I reckon he'll be livin' with you for thirty years too 'stead o' getting a proper job like me... Now cut the crap and tell me exactly what happened.

WOMAN Well it's perfectly simple. I was conceived immaculately - without any stain...

MAN Eh?

WOMAN True to one of the four dogmas in Roman Catholic Mariology, preserved by God from Original Sin and filled with the sanctifying grace normally coming with baptism after birth, not to be confused with the Incarnation of my son Jesus Christ, whose birth is celebrated as the Annunciation. From early Catholic history, the belief shall be implicit in writings of the Church fathers, yea celebrated for centuries on 8 December, until 28 February 1476 when Pope Sixtus IV extends it to the entire Latin Church without defining it as dogma, thus leaving Roman Catholics free from charges of heresy should they choose not to subscribe thereto...

MAN Well I heard some excuses in my time but that's just nuts, and I still don't mean my tackle. I'm off for a beer and a fag and a couple of prossies - proper slags, not weirdos like you! (leaves)

WOMAN Men - you can't tell them anything these days.

Christmas sketch, you say? Count me in!

FX: KNOCK KNOCK

SANTA: Come in!

COLIN: Morning, Santa!

SANTA: Hello Colin, now, as you know, you are an elf...

COLIN: That's right, I am one of your Christmas elves and we are currently located in your secret toy factory here at the North Pole, just for the sake of exposition.

SANTA: That's right, and you have been working here at my secret toy factory in the North Pole since last month when I signed up for the North Pole Elf Offender Rehabilitation Scheme, which, as you know, involves local businesses such as mine employing elves who have been convicted of various crimes with the intention of reforming them into useful members of society.

COLIN: That's correct, Santa, and I am very grateful to you for this wonderful opportunity!

SANTA: I know you're grateful Colin, because every day you send me at least one picture of your penis with the words 'thank you Santa' written on it in marker pen.

COLIN: That's right, Santa, yes. Did you notice that yesterday I wrote thank you on my penis and cleverly used my jap's eye as the 'o' in 'you'?

SANTA: I did notice that, Colin, yes.

COLIN: I put a lot of thought into these things.

SANTA: Yes, you do Colin; remind me again of what crimes you were convicted?

COLIN: Sex crimes, Santa, I am a sex criminal.

SANTA: Right, yes, that would make sense.

COLIN: Shall I show you my penis now Santa, save taking a picture of it later?

SANTA: Not right now Colin, there's something I need to discuss with you first

COLIN: I see, well, I'm all ears! Pointy elf ears!

SANTA: Yes, right, well, as you know, you have been working on the toy production line.

COLIN: Yes, I love it! I love making toys and imagining the happy faces of children as they unwrap them on Christmas morning!

SANTA: That's what we're here for, isn't it, the happy faces of the children? Well, what concerns me is that some of the toys that have been made this year are, well, slightly inappropriate for their intended recipients

COLIN: I'm not sure I know what you mean, Santa.

SANTA: Well, have a look at this one for example...

COLIN: It's an Action Man, very popular toy that one!

SANTA: It's not just an Action Man though is it, Colin? Let's read the packaging shall we... 'Rear Action Man', the action man who likes it up the wrong 'un! The only action man with a realistic and capacious anus!'

COLIN: That's right, yes, he likes a bit of the old back door action!

SANTA: Colin, I can't deliver an anal sex doll to children.

COLIN: Are you a homophobe, Santa?

SANTA: No, Colin, I am not a homophobe, as you know, I have been in a stable and loving relationship with Rudolph the red nosed reindeer for several years now and-

COLIN: That's more bestiality than homosexuality-

SANTA: Let's not quibble about the specifics, Colin, my point is that I have a reputation and a brand to protect and I am not happy about the idea of being associated with a toy featuring a realistic and capacious anus.

COLIN: I think you're being a bit old fashioned.

SANTA: Perhaps I am, but let's look at some of the other new toys, this one for example, 'Tickle My Balls Elmo'.

COLIN: Tickle Me Elmo, very popular toy, so I thought 'how can I improve it? and then I thought let's make the tickling area very specific. Then I came up with Tickle My Balls Elmo!

SANTA: Yes, I can see your thought process but, for me personally, that process would have ended with the thought 'Oh, hang on, I'm making this toy for the under-fives and so perhaps I won't give Elmo massive plastic testicles and call him Tickle My Balls Elmo'

COLIN: Do you not like having your balls tickled, Santa?

SANTA: It's not that I don't like having my balls tickled, Colin, as I mentioned, I have been in a stable and loving relationship with Rudolph the - anyway, my point is that, once again, this toy is not suitable for children.

COLIN: Okay, fine, I will get rid of all the Tickle My Balls Elmos. What about the 'Stick Your Fist Up My Bum Elmos'?

SANTA: F**king hell Colin, I hadn't even seen those, get rid of them all!

COLIN: Will do, Santa!

SANTA: Now, finally, this... I don't even know what this is.

COLIN: That, Santa, is a twenty six inch double headed dildo.

SANTA: And it is a suitable gift for a child because...?

COLIN: It's brightly coloured!

SANTA: Right, so, in your mind, the difference between a 26 inch double headed dildo that is suitable for children and a 26 inch double headed dildo that is not suitable for children is entirely based on the colour of the dildo?

COLIN: Yes, children like brightly coloured things, whereas I, for example, like big black ones.

SANTA: Okay Colin, I think we're done here. I want you off the toy production line as of now and you can work in the admin department or something.

COLIN: Do you want me to destroy all the brightly coloured 26 inch doubled headed dildos?

SANTA: Yes, Colin, I do. Except this one, I think Rudolph and I can...well, you know...

COLIN: Merry Christmas Santa!

SANTA: Merry Christmas Colin!

BOTH TO AUDIENCE: 'Merry Christmas everyone!'

INTERNAL NIGHT -

Santa is outside a bedroom door

A sign on the door reads - Brandon's bedroom keep out.

Santa enters the bedroom quietly with his sack full of presents.

He removes each present out of the sack and places them at the foot of Brandon's bed.

When the sack is empty he kneels beside Brandon as he sleeps.

Santa: Brandon, Brandon wake up

Brandon does not stir

Santa nudges Brandon.

Santa: Brandon wake up it's Father Christmas.

Brandon stirs, opens his eyes rubbing them trying to focus on what he is seeing.

Santa: I've just delivered your presents.

Brandon: Um, thanks.

Santa hands him a small device.

Santa: Sign here please.

End