Sorcha’s old dear has a scream on her like Wayne Bornes’s whistle. Sorcha’s old man is like, “What in the name of God?” and we all rush into the living room – we’re talking me, Sorcha and, like I said, her old man – to see her standing there with the famous Elf on the Shelf in her hand.
Sorcha’s like, “Oh! My God! Is that...?”
And Sorcha’s old dear nods and goes, “He’s back, Sorcha! He’s back!”
Yeah, no, a little bit of background here. Sorcha’s old pair bought the thing when Brian, Johnny and Leo were small. They used to get a kick out of the way it moved mysteriously around the aportment, never knowing where it would pop up next, until Leo convinced himself that the thing was possessed by the devil and attempted to bite its head off, at which point the fun and games ended and the Elf never moved from the top of a bookshelf, out of Leo’s reach.
‘Elf went missing and Sorcha’s old man went loop-the-focking-loop. He actually rang the Gords’
Christmas or no Christmas, I’m frankly disappointed by Sorcha’s lack of killer instinct
The old man goes, ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t muster any enthusiasm for Christmas this year’
‘We’re going to buy a sh**load of frozen turkeys - if there’s a shortage I can sell them for €500 each’
Except last year, about a week before Christmas, the thing went missing. Sorcha’s old dear thought it was Sorcha’s old man playing a practical joke on her, and Sorcha’s man thought it was Sorcha’s old dear doing the same thing, until about three days later, when the Elf was photographed sitting on a pork bench with the Sydney Horbor Bridge in the background. The photograph was posted on an Instagram account called Elf on his Holliers and Sorcha’s old dear only found out when she was tagged in it.
Sorcha’s old man went loop-the-focking-loop. He actually rang the Gords, who laughed at him, of course, and told him that they had far more important things to be doing at that time of year.
“More important than burglary?” he went. “More important than trafficking?”
The man is a tool. I’ve said it from day one. On the record.
Sorcha’s old dear is holding the thing to her chest like a child who was lost and is found again.
She goes, “It’s awful to think that someone would take some kind of sick pleasure out of putting good people through an ordeal like that,” and she returns the Elf to the shelf from where it disappeared.
Sorcha’s old man goes, “Perhaps we should phone the Gords again – tell them that the panic is over.”
Sorcha goes, “Where was he seen last?”
And Sorcha’s old dear is like, “He was drinking a hot chocolate at the Christmas morket in Copenhagen.”
Yeah, no, this is the really funny twist? The Elf has been on, like, a world tour for the last 12 months, posting selfies of himself in Paris with the Eiffel Tower in the background, lying on Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro, sitting like Princess Diana on a bench in front of the Taj Mahal and standing at the top of a ski slope in Switzerland.
“Some idiot’s idea of fun,” Sorcha’s old man goes.
I’m there, “What if–?” and every set of eyes in the room is suddenly focussed on me.
It’s a lot of pressure.
Sorcha goes, “What if what, Ross?”
And I’m there, “Okay, you’re possibly going to laugh at this, but what if the Elf, I don’t know, really went to all of those places?”
They all just stare at me with their mouths wide open.
Sorcha goes, “Ross, what are you talking about?”
I’m there, “Well, they can move around a house or an aportment, can’t they? You know, you put him on the mantelpiece and you wake up the next morning and find him, I don’t know, on top of the fridge.”
The point I’m making is, if they can move around inside a gaff, then imagine what they could do if they managed to get outside
— Ross
There’s just, like, silence.
I’m there, “The point I’m making is, if they can move around inside a gaff, then imagine what they could do if they managed to get outside.”
Sorcha goes, “Ross, you do know that it’s grown-ups who move them?”
And I’m there, “What?” looking from Sorcha to her old pair like this might be some kind of joke.
Sorcha’s like, “Yes, Ross, parents do it after their children go to bed. It’s just a bit of Christmas fun.”
It’s just a bit of Christmas fun
— Sorcha
I’m there, “I thought – yeah, no – there was some sort of, like, magic involved?”
“Look at the disappointment on his face,” Sorcha’s old man goes. “You married an idiot.”
Sorcha looks at me with her head cocked to the side and goes, “Awww! Bless!”
And her old dear goes, “Well, at least we can rule him out as a suspect.”
They all laugh.
“The person we’re looking for,” Sorcha’s old dear goes, “is someone who travels a lot – perhaps for work.”
And Sorcha’s like, “Or someone who knows a bunch of different people who travelled to all these places in the last year,” and she whips out her phone. “Where else did he show up again?”
“Rome,” Sorcha’s old dear goes. “Tokyo. There’s one of him in Times Square in New York. Niagara Falls. Egypt. Machu Picchu. Then on safori somewhere, possibly South Africa.”
Sorcha’s old man is like, “I think Sorcha is right as usual. I think it’s someone who knows lots of people who travel. My money is on Blessica.”
“Blessica?” Sorcha goes. “But she’s been your cleaner for years.”
Her old man’s there, “Think about it. She has access to our aportment. Plus, she’s furious that we didn’t tip her for the last two Christmases – after your mother caught her using our electricity to chorge her iPhone.”
Sorcha’s old dear goes, “Let’s forget about it for now. There’s mince pies in the kitchen.”
Anyway, to cut a long story short, it’s actually, like, an hour later, when we’re in the cor, that Sorcha turns around to me and goes, “Christian and Lauren went to Toyko this year. And Oisinn and Magnus walked to Machu Picchu. I happen to know that Fionn went on safori. And wasn’t JP in Rome?”
I’m there, “I hope you’re not suggesting that I’m behind this? I’m an idiot, remember, who doesn’t know that it’s grown-ups who move them around.”
And I look down to see the little dude with his head sticking out of my pocket, smiling at me as if to say, “You, Rossmeister, are a total legend.”
