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Arthur Christmas is a 2011 animated film.


CAPTION; November 25, 3:04 PM

Mimosa Avenue, Trelew, Cornwall England

[Gwen runs to the mailbox to put her letter to Santa in)

CAPTION: December 2, 4:09PM

The North Pole

Gwen (Voiceover): Dear Santa, are you real?

If you live at the North Pole, how come I can't see your house when I look on Google Earth?

Are you Saint Nicholas?

Because you'd be incredibly old.

How do you have time to read all the letters... from all the children in the world?

And how many cookies and mince pies have you eaten in all of history?

How do you get all the presents in the sack?

Does your sack have to get bigger every year... because of exponential population growth?

And how do you get down the chimneys?

I put my head in ours and it's really small.

Even if you could squeeze down it in one minute...there's nine houses in my road so that's nearly 10 minutes.

And there are millions of roads in the world.

It must be so hard being Santa these days.

I mean, what if after all of that,

I'm staying at Grandma's?

Santa, how can you get round the whole world in just one night?

My friend said...that you'd have to go so fast...it would make you and the sleigh and the reindeer all burn up.

I think you are real.

But how do you do it?

For Christmas I would love a pink Twinkle Bike with stabilizers.

But please don't bring it if it makes you and the reindeer burn.

Love, Gwen Hines. 23 Mimosa Avenue, Trelew, Cornwall, England.

Arthur (voiceover, in his office writing back to Gwen): Dear Gwen, thank you for your letter... and brilliant picture.

Your request for a pink Twinkle Bike will be passed on to Santa.

And, yes, do believe in Santa.

He is real.

He's the greatest man ever.

And he can get around the world to every child...without a single reindeer being roasted ali--


By the time the sun comes up on Christmas Day, he'll get to you too, using his special...magic. (Uses a special glitter marker to write the word "magic" (Camera shows closeup of Arthur writing the word).

CAPTION: December 24, 11:59PM

Aarhus, Eastern Denmark

(The S-1 appears over Aarhus, Denmark, camouflaged)

Field Elf: First Field Elf Battalion, set.

Field Elf 2: Straighten that teddy bear, soldier.

Field Elf 3: Ma'am.

Santa Claus: {Lands on a roof with other elves) Ho, ho, ho.

Andrew: That's a "Ho, ho, ho" Aarhus.

Carlos: Field elves, jingle! Drop time, 18.14 seconds per household.

(Andrew is guiding Santa down a ladder) Left foot, sir. Right foot, sir.

That's it, that's it.

(Field Elf shoots dog food to silence dogs as another uses his HOHO to silence a car alarm) Dog food incoming.

Meaty chunks in the hole.

Field Elf: Wow, a grand piano. This kid must have been good his whole life.

(Elves sneak into the children's ward of a hospital and give a bunch of crying babies pacifiers to quiet them)

Santa: (admiring the stealthiness of the field elves): Marvelous. Gets me every time.

(Elf sets gift gun to "peanut" to silence parrot) Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.


(Another elf with a gun that has teeth on one end pulls a trigger which chomps a carrot and places it In a container attached to his back) Carrot chomped.

(Another elf uses a vacuum device to suck up the milk)

(Elf directs Santa to place present under tree, Santa is dozing off) Sir?

Santa: Goodness me.


Field Elf: Drop complete. Stand by, S-1 .

Field Elf: You're gonna make it, soldier.

Field Elf: Aarhus is merry.

Santa has left the building.

(The S-1 is preparing to depart Denmark)

Steve (over comms): North Pole to S-1 , you have weather fluctuation. Update camouflage.

S-1 Control Elf: Roger that, Control.

(Camouflage is updated)

Hull projection optimized.

Sarah: Roger, S-1.

Chris: Denmark cleared.

Steve: Next drop, Flensburg, minus 12.4 seconds.

North Pole Computer: Flensburg weather: Deep, crisp, even.

Making a list.

-Check it twice.

-Checking twice.

-A wrap for Denmark.

North Pole Computer: Converting milk and cookies to biofuel.

Santa (knocking on door): Hello?

North Pole Computer: Santa on bridge.

Santa: Sorry. Forgot the PIN code.

S-1 Control Elf: Just crossed into Germany, sir.

Santa: Germany. So many countries these days.

S-1 Control Elf: It's a big night, sir.

Santa: My 70th mission. Yes. (Burps) Oh, sorry. One too many mince pies.

S-1 Control Elf: Looking forward to it? Retirement?

North Pole Computer: Ten seconds to Flensburg.

Santa: Maintain current....Carry on.

North Pole Computer: Update national protocol. Delete rice pudding and carrot. German leave-out for Santa...is shoe on front step. Repeat, shoe on step.


-Gift secured.

Carlos: Oi, soldier. Get off your baubles.

What happened to peace and goodwill to all men, sarge?

It don't say nothing about elves, soldier.

Go, go, go!

Engage rooftops.

It's snow time!

Steve: S-1, hold drop altitude. This is Germany, Father. Drive on the right. National dish: sausage. Okay, let's show them, people. Operation Santa Claus is coming to town.

CAPTION: 12:04AM North Pole Mission Control

-Drop complete.

-Drop complete.

Operational efficiency:

-One hundred percent.

Arthur: Wow!

David: Hold the handrail.

Arthur: (carrying letters through Mission Control while wearing reindeer slippers) Dear, I'm sorry.

Thanks. Brendon Doherty.

Ruby Miller. That's Grace Smith.

She wants an elephant.

David: What are you doing here, Arthur?

Got to get this letter from Maria Costa....to Steve. Oh, no! Maria!

(Letter flies away)

Mission Control Elf: Bye-bye, Maria.

Kenneth (on moving platform, catches letter): Is this yours, Arthur?

Arthur: Oh, thanks, Kenneth.

-Merry Christmas.

Kenneth: Want a ride?

Arthur: Doubt it. No, thanks. I'm not...very good with heights, speed... and that thing!

-Buckle down, people.

-Buckle down.

Steve: Peter.

Peter: Ready, sir.

Steve: SITREP on special forces. Where are they?

Peter: America, sir. White House. Delivering to the president's children, sir.

Steve (directing field elves): Okay team. Left out of the Oval Office, right at the Cabinet Room, second floor via the air vents.

Peter: You think of everything, sir.

Steve: Thank you, Peter. I'd love an espresso.

Peter: Coming right up.

Arthur: Beg your pardon. Well done!

Merry Christmas.

-Wow, brilliant.

-Mind the glasses.

Keep up, everybody.


(Arthur is climbing over support elves at their stations instead of using the stairs)

Arthur: Sorry. Can I just--?

No, never mind.

Do you mind if I--?

Oh, dear.

I'm so sorry.


-Merry Christmas.


-And a happy New Year.

Peter: What a night, sir.

Out with the old Santa, in with the new, eh?

Steve: Let's focus on the now, eh, Peter?

Support teams... prep Poland.


Arthur: Poland. Do you know what they call...Dad here? Święty Mikołaj.


I guess he's harmless.

I'm terribly sorry.

Is that your leg?

I'm sorry!

I'm really sorry.

(Arthur slides towards Steve on the ice on his back holding all the letters)

Arthur: It's my Christmas slippers on the ice.

They're from China.

Found it.

Steve: What?

Arthur: The letter. The one I said.

From Maria Costa.

She asked for a Pocket-Puppy, but she wants the blue one.

It looks like her auntie's dog, Biffo, that ran away.

I remember because she sent... a picture of Biffo. See?

Child CG786K?

Steve: Look, Arthur....

This was Greece, sir.

Five countries ago, sir.

Arthur: I just want it to be perfect for every kid.

Hey, there's Dad. Santa!

Maria Costa, Dad.

Did she get the blue one?!

Steve: Little bro, it's great to have you around.

You bring a genuine aura of seasonal positivity.

Arthur: Heh. Thanks, Steve.

Steve: But could you not be in Mission Control...at all for the rest of the night?

Arthur: Yeah.

Steve: All right?

Elf: I'll never walk again.


Sorry if I....


They should put him...

-...somewhere out of harm's way.

-What, like the South Pole?

Seamus: Waker!

We have a waker!

And Santa's in there!

North Pole Computer: Code red.

Repeat: code red.

Santa? Are you here?

Santa: Steve?

Steve: Hold on, Father.

Intel! Get me Intel!

Peter: Santa's head seems to be resting...on some sort of "try me" button, sir.

Deborah: It's the Quack Quack Moo Activity Farm, sir.

It features 12 separate animal sounds.

-Sings "Old MacDonald Had a Farm."

-The moment your father lifts his head, there'll be 10 seconds of constant mooing.

North Pole Computer: Risk of mooing: 98 percent.

Captain Marino...you'll have to take the batteries out.

He'd have to get past the wrapping, the box and 14 twist ties anchoring it to the cardboard.

It's too noisy!

It'll wake the boy! He'll see Santa!

1816 Elf: Remember 1816...when Santa was seen.

They tracked him home.

He had to go into hiding.

No Christmas for six years.

The elves all alone!

The elves alone!

Steve: Calm, people!

It's not 1816 now.

Marino, your HOHO is equipped with state-of-the-art EMF sensor technology hacked directly from the military's missile program.

I want you to locate the batteries and perform a Level 3 giftwrap incision.

Go in through the robin.

North Pole Computer: Incising robin.

Grandsanta: Big girl's blouse.

Lot of fuss.

I did my 70 missions...without any of this malarkey.

(to his reindeer) Didn't we, lad?

-Twist ties clear.

(Arthur enters Grandsanta's room and leaves the door open, as that's his M.O., Grandsanta is watching the elves deliver the presents on his tv): Can I watch with you, Grandsanta?

Grandsanta: Shut the door!

Hell's berries...it's the North Pole!

-Kid still asleep? He mustn't see Santa.

Arthur: Dad would rather die than spoil it.

Grandsanta: So what if you wake the odd nipper? A whack with a sock of sand, a dab of whiskey on the lips, they don't remember in the morning.

-Screwdriver elf.


Grandsanta: What happened to going down the "chimbley"?

Never did me any har--

(Grandsanta's reindeer, wearing an “E” collar puts his paws on Grandsanta and licks him) Get off me!

You smell like a wet elf.

Mrs. Santa: (to the reindeer) Goodness! Down, boy! Basket.

Here you are, Grandsanta.

I've made you a nice mince pie.

Grandsanta: I can't eat that. It gets in me teeth. (Takes out his teeth and eats it)

Mrs. Santa: Oh, dear.

Now I've got to visit the elf hospital, look over a treaty with Greenland and make the gravy.

Then we'll finally have the whole family home for Christmas.

They're nearly done!

-Battery clear.

-Oh, no.

It's the detachable milk maid!

-She's got her own power source!

-Norah: They've got five seconds 'til she starts singing!

(Not paying attention, the elf in charge of sorting the gifts is watching the monitor and accidentally puts his mug on a button knocking a bike to the ground)





Steve: Use your HOHO. Exit code 12. Code 12!

(Marino uses his HOHO and executes Code 12 while another elf uses a flashlight and shines it in the boy's face as they escape)

Okay, go, go, go!

Steve: Revise drop time to 14.13 seconds.

Let's pick this up, people!

North Pole Computer: Drop time revised. Picking this up...people.

Everybody, mission...re-engage.

Three, two, one!

North Pole Computer: Mission accomplished.


Oh, what a night that was.

That detachable milk maid thing.

Peter: This is just the beginning, right, sir?

I got you a present, sir.

Not S for Steve, sir.

S for Santa.

(holds up a pair of boxers that read "IN STEVE WE BELIEVE" along the waistband)

Steve: Oh, I don't know about that, Peter.

Okay...let's bring them home.

CAPTION: Christmas Day, 4:19AM North Pole

CCTV....in every room!

Had to go under the floor!


Carlos: Back! Holly injury coming through!

Norah: Hey, fancy a trip on the S-1, Arthur?

It only goes 150,000 miles an hour.

Arthur: No, no. Thanks.

I see a bit of the world in my office, you know.

Some of the stamps I get are amazing.

Excuse me.



Dad! Dad!

I'm sorry. So sorry. Dad!


-Santa's waving!

-He's waving at me!

-He's waving at me!

-At me!


Santa: Arthur.

Arthur: Happy Christmas.

Santa: You too.

Arthur: You were fantastic!

Look! Christmas slippers.

Santa: Well done. Yes.

Steve: Father?

Santa: There he is. Steve!

Mission accomplished!

Tonight we delivered... 2 billion presents.

On this...my 70th mission!

We'll miss you, Santa!

Stand by.

Santa: Oh, thank you.

You know, I sometimes think I couldn't do it without you.

And my splendid Margaret, who's stood by me all these years...very ably doing all that...stuff...that women do when their husbands work. Marvelous.

And Arthur, yes, doing...vital work in Maintenance, really vital.

Arthur: (Correcting him) I work in Letters.

Santa: Letters, of course. I'm so sorry.

Arthur: You moved me after I tripped over that plug and melted down the elf barracks.

David: I lost everything in that flood!

Santa: Yes. Now...many years ago, my father told me...that being Santa is the best job in the world.

(Grandsanta is sitting in a chair sleeping)

He was right.

I've loved it.

I can't wait for year 71!

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Elves: He's red, he's white!

He's worked all through the night!



(The family is sitting down to dinner)

Arthur: "What do you get if you eat Christmas decorations? Tinselitis!" (Nasally laugh)

Isn't this the best bit of Christmas?

Mrs. Santa: It certainly is, Arthur.

The whole family together.

How about a toast, Malcolm?

Santa: Well, here's to me doing an even better job next year.

-Next year.

Arthur: But you're already perfect, Dad.

Grandsanta: Ha, that turkey did more than him.

(His teeth fly out into the gravy and splatter some on Steve who wipes it off with an annoyed look on his face)

Steve: You wouldn't understand, Father.

Santa: I've rather moved things on since your day. Eh, Steve?

Grandsanta: Forget Techno Tommy. He's tex'in' on his calculator after another job.

Steve: It's a Handheld Operational and Homing Organizer.

The HOHO 3000.

I'm enacting mission closure.

Grandsanta: Aren't you the fancy nancy?

Don't matter what you come up with.

You may be next in line, but you'll never get to be Santa unless you knock him off.

Arthur: (pulls out a board game) I've got you all a present.

After all the hard work, I wanted everyone to have some Christmas fun.

(Steve and Santa are fighting over a Santa game piece)

Steve: I'm Santa!

Santa: No, no, I'm Santa. It's ridiculous.

Steve: You just took the piece out of my hand.

Santa: Well, I am actually Santa... so I think I should have it.

Steve: Yes. You're the non-executive figurehead.

Santa: Exactly. Figurehead.

Grandsanta: It means a fatty with a beard who fits the suit.

Arthur: The other pieces are good too.

Or I can make extra Santas for everyone.

Santa: Why don't you be the candle, Steve?

All those bright ideas, eh?

Steve: Fine. I'm the candle,

Arthur's the turkey...and you, Father, are, of course, Santa. Grandsanta, you can be this charming relic.

Grandsanta: "Relic"? "Relic"?

I did the whole of Christmas in one of these, Arthur.

Oh, yes. I didn't need a trillion elves in bleepy hats.

We don't fly about throwing lead-painted toys down chimneys anymore.

Steve: That space sends you back to Lapland.

(Santa has several game pieces in front of him that look like presents)

Mrs. Santa: Malcolm, where did you get those?

Santa: Just moving things along. Do I win?

Grandsanta: Cheats, the pair of you!

Arthur: Mum, are you okay?

Mrs. Santa: (stitching up the hole in her coat) Polar bear, dear. Attacked me on the ice.

Good I did that online survival course...or there'd be one less for turkey.

Grandsanta: Christmas has gone right down the rodney hole.

You're a postman with a spaceship.

Steve: My S-1 festivized the world at 1,860 times the speed of sound.

Grandsanta: Christmas 1941, World War II... did the whole thing with six reindeer and a drunken elf!

I was shot at, Arthur.

Took 12 direct hits.

Lost three reindeer.

Arthur: What happened...

Grandsanta: To the elf? Fell out of the sleigh over Lake Geneva. Never saw him again.

Mrs. Santa: Goodness. Now....

(Picks up a game card) "Christmas crackers. Sing 'Silent Night' backwards."

Who'd know that?

(Arthur hits bell and sings gibberish)

Grandsanta: I went on alone.

I could still do it now, Arthur.

Just give me a go!

Steve: In a heap of sticks.

Grandsanta: "Heap of--"?

Let me up and at him!

I'll show you, Robby the Robot!

Santa: Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

Grandsanta: I'll have that back.

Would have won anyway.

(Game board and pieces are scattered all over the table due to Steve and Grandsanta fighting)

Steve (gets an alert on his HOHO and runs out of the room): What?

Grandsanta: Oh, yeah. Run away now that you're losing!

Arthur: (Runs after Steve with the Santa game piece in his hand) Steve!


Don't be upset. Look.

You keep this.

Then you can be Santa next time.

(Gestures to the wall where a picture of the next Santa will be) That'll be you there, Steve.

Next year I bet.

You'll be great.

(All the doors behind Arthur are wide open)

Steve: How many times, Arthur?

It's the North Pole. Shut the doors.

(Steve is now in Mission Control)

Bryony: I secured the gift.

Gift secured!

Steve: Just can't be.

The system is foolproof.

Peter: It has to be an error, sir.


Bryony: I spotted the ribbon glinting in the shadows.

I am actually trained in wrapping.

And I said to myself, "Bryony, the wrapping looks okay. Thank goodness. But that present should not be lying in the--"

-Thank you, soldier.

Arthur: Has someone... got the wrong present? That's awful. Whose is it?

No one...gets the wrong present. 47785BXK....

Arthur: (looks at the monitor) "Gift undelivered"?

They got nothing?

A child's been missed!

Steve: Not necessarily.

Arthur: A child's been missed!

Steve: Do you wanna wake up the North Pole?

Arthur: Good idea. A child's been missed!

Steve: Arthur!

Santa: Everything all right?

Arthur: There's been a glitch.

Santa: "A glitch"?

Arthur: We've missed a child!

Santa: Really? Dear, oh, dear.

That's awful.

How did you let it happen, Steven?

Steve: How did I--?

I thought it was your mission.

Santa: No. This is your department.

-What'll we do?

Santa: We must-- We must-- What must we do, Steven?

Steve: There's nothing to do.

The mission was a success.

Arthur: We can't leave a child out of Christmas.

Steve: Sunrise at destination is 7:39 a.m. There's no way to get there in time.

Except, of course, for the S-1.

Santa: The S-1. Right-o.

Steve: No! The S-1... has just traveled 7 million miles.

We could damage it.

Santa: Oh, dear.

-And risk the lives of the elves.

-Oh, my. No.

Bryony: I'll go, sir!

Bryony Shelfley... Wrapping Division. Grade 3, sir.

-Who asked you?

- I wasn't called up for field duty.

I served out my mission in Gift Wrap Support.

I wrapped 264,000 presents in three days, sir.

If you want that bike delivered... in a perfect state... of enwrapment, then I'm your elf.

Steve: No one is going.

It's impossible.

-But this child--

-It's a margin of error of 0.00000001514834 percent...

Steve: I mean, hello?

Where's the champagne?

My department has delivered the most outstanding Christmas ever.

Santa: Well done, us.

Arthur: But there's a child without a present.

Steve: Arthur, Christmas is not a time for emotion.

We will get 47785BXK a present... within the window of Christmas.

We'll messenger the item.

It'll be there in five days.

Arthur: But that'll ruin the magic.

Steve: If there was any way at all to make the drop tonight....

But it can't be done.

Santa: Your brother... knows about these things.

I won't sleep easy after this, Arthur, but there it is.

Can't be done.

Merry Christmas.

Bryony: Arthur! You're compromising... the wrapping! That is not... a toy! Well, it is... but, I mean, that's not--


(In his office searching for Gwen's letter) Arthur: Oh, come on, come on... come on. Child 47785BXK... where are you?

"Dear Santa, my friend doesn't believe in you.

For Christmas I'd like a pink Twinkle Bike.

Gwen Hines.

23 Mimosa Avenue, Trelew, Cornwall, England."

Lights out.

Santa: This figurehead thingy: I'm not just a fatty with a suit, am I?

Mrs. Santa: Of course not, dear.

Santa: No. I'm Santa.

Children... rely on me.

Mrs. Santa: (gives him a bunch of stuff) Here.

Santa: Thank you. It's just checks for the boys and cash for Father.

Mrs. Santa: Oh, Malcolm.

Santa: It's the 2 billion other gifts, dear.

Christmas has become... such a mad rush.

Mrs. Santa: Until you retire.

Santa: Retire?

Sit next to Father, watching Steve on TV?

HOHO: (Santa is leaning on a HOHO in bed) You are sitting on a level one access HOHO.

Please state your identity.

State your identity.

Santa: Who would I be?

Mrs. Santa: You'd be my Malcolm, dear.

And there's Arthur.

Santa: Dear Arthur. What a puzzle.

Mrs. Santa: (Hands him a present to give back to her) This one's for me, dear.

Santa: Happy Christmas, Margaret.

Mrs. Santa: Oh, thank you.

Santa: I'm still very much up to the job, you know.

Good night, dear.

Mrs. Santa: Good night, Malcolm.

(Arthur is sitting in his office worrying about Gwen)

Arthur: It just can't be. It can't.

-It just can't be. It can't. It just can't be!

(Grandsanta comes in with his reindeer) Grandsanta: What's all this...kadoodle, young man?

Arthur: Grandsanta.

This little girl.

She's been missed!

Grandsanta: So much for your brother's fancy-pants technology.

Arthur: Steve and Dad racked their brains but said it's impossible.

Grandsanta: Is it, now?

Missed a child. Dear, oh dear, sends shivers down me shins.

Arthur: In two hours, she's gonna wake up...tear downstairs, search under the tree... and the look on her face....

But there's nothing there.

She won't understand. She'll think she's the one kid in the world...that Santa doesn't care about.

She'll feel so... left out.

On Christmas night, he comes.

Gwen can't not have a present from Santa.

Grandsanta: Do you know, Arthur, there is a way.

They used to say it was impossible to teach women to read.

Follow me.

(They go to the sleigh barn through the old workshop) It's the actual sleigh.

Grandsanta: Hello, Evie.

Arthur: I thought it was scrapped years ago.

Grandsanta: So did everyone else.

Arthur: Can I--?

Icelandic birch. Arctic balsa.

Built in 1845.

Able to reach 50,000 miles per hour at a height of 40,000 feet.

Grandsanta: Over here, you string of tinsel.

Got it.

"Potash of carboniloroxy... amilocitrate."

Magic dust.

Grandsanta: Mined from the aurora borealis.

But she doesn't still go?

Grandsanta: Not just a hobby, Arthur.

(Opens the reindeer pen to show young reindeer) Grandsanta: Great-great-grandchildren of the original eight. (Blows horn)




What are the others called? I could never ruddy remember. B-B-Bambi? John?

You there, with the...white ear. And you.

(To his reindeer) And-- Not you, you bag of fleas.


Arthur: I'm not really good with big animals.

Grandsanta: Piffle!

Don't get bit, mind.

They can smell fear.

Let's hitch 'em up.

Arthur: Oh, Grandsanta.

Excuse me.

You can go to Gwen!

On the old sleigh, with the reindeer and the magic dust and everything!

It's a miracle.

Grandsanta: You're coming too, lad.

Arthur: Me?

On that? Up there? Pulled by them?

No. No way.

Grandsanta: I'm 136. I can't do it on me own,

I need an elf.

Arthur: I can't fly a sleigh. I can't even ride a bike without stabilizers.

I know, let's wake Steve. He'll--

Grandsanta: No.

He's a worrier, Arthur. What if he stops us? Gwen's forgotten.

Arthur: You really care.

Grandsanta: Well, of course I do. I was Santa too.

Think of your dad, lyin' awake, chewin' his beard off with worry over this girl.

Don't you want to help for once?

Make him proud?

Arthur: I can't.

I just-- I can't.

No, I can't.

Grandsanta: Ready?!

Arthur: No! You promise... not to go too fast?

Or high.

Or bumpy. I get travel sick.

I'm allergic to snow.

Grandsanta: Ye baubles. And you a son of Santa?

Arthur: Wait! My slippers!

They're not for outdoor use!

Grandsanta: Dash! Dash!



Who's Santa now?

Arthur: Put me down!

Grandsanta: What's the matter, boy?

Arthur: I'm having a heart attack.

Grandsanta: They've never flown before.

Just gotta break 'em in. (He whistles, and the reindeer form a straight line)


Come away!

Dash away!

Look, Arthur.

All those stars.

We're one of 'em now.

Arthur: A shooting star!

Grandsanta: Stuck that there for your dad when he was a boy.

Arthur: Dad? What, he sat here?

Grandsanta: So did I.

Every young heir to the Pole gets took out by his father.

Right back to Saint Nick.

We Clauses used to be the only men in the world who could fly, Arthur... and see all this.

It was a gift, a great big ball wrapped in oceans and mountains.

I remember the look on your father's face when he saw it.

(Arthur spots narwhals in the ocean)

Arthur: Fish!

With horns!

Grandsanta: Want to help me make a snowman?

Arthur: No! Not ye--!

Oh, where's the seat belt?

Arthur: Could Dad do that?

Did he make a snowman for Steve?

Grandsanta: Robot Roy?

I should cocoa.

The next Santa, and he's never even sat in a sleigh.


(Grandsanta pulls out the map) Arthur: Is that...?

Grandsanta: The map of the Clauses.

Used every Christmas night in history.

Whatever your brother says, Arthur... it's the same old world.

What is it?!

No idea. I've never... seen it before.

(they've somehow ended up in Toronto)

-It's a city!

-A new one?

Ruddy cheek.

They're always putting... these things up.

I remember the first time I ran into Chicago.

Chicago wasn't on the map?

Now, where are we?

Here we are, see?

Oh, no, that's Peking.

Ahead, there's a--!

They can see us.

Well, pull the camouflage lever.

Now, then, we'd better... draw in a few... skyscratchers. Just....

Not that one.

That's a steam train, you ninny.

Do this one.

So, what do they call this place?


Toronto's in Canada.

The Santa's always come through Canada.

Nobody lives here.

It's nice and quiet.

Till your brother came with... his "You can't cut through Saigon, there's a war" rubbish.

Don't need him to tell me what's ahead.

-I got eyes.


(Bryony appears from a compartment on the front of the sleigh)

Ye baubles, an elf.

Bryony Shelfley. There's... a small trauma to your giftwrap... but I can fix it.

-A stowaway!

-I can wrap anything... sir, with three bits of sticky tape.


Good. Wrap yourself a parachute.


Toronto. Present and correct.

Not quite, sir. You've lost one of the reindeer.


-What elf?

-Bryony Shelfley, sir.

The crazy wrapping elf, you know?

Security tracked her to Sector 19.

And we think Arthur was here.


Who else leaves the door open, huh, sir?

The old sleigh barn?

That was sealed up... decades ago... after that terrible night Grandsanta sneaked out and....

Thank goodness he's too old these days to get into trouble.

Bash it with a brick, Arthur. Go on.

It just won't--

Grab its antlers and tug.

I may just be a wrapping operative, sir, but this contravenes....


-Specific mission regulations.

I'm in charge here, not Billy the Bureaucrat.

It's stuck.


-Elf, wrap your head.


Come on, lad. You're as much use... as a cheese chopstick.

Got it!

Oh, no.

Oh, my big Aunt Betty.

It'll have to do. Pass it down.


Permission to breathe, sir. I have about nine seconds left before l black out.

One breath.


I said one. Hurry up, Arthur.

But don't we need a whole one?

You know... to balance the sleigh?

Oh, it won't balance the sleigh. No, no.

If anything, it'll slow us down.

So why are we taking it?

It's for Gwen. Eight beautiful reindeer.

That's what she's dreaming of.

The jingly bells, the sleigh on the roof.

-Yeah, but--

-That's what the kids want... not some spaceship.

We're giving her the star treatment.

What now?

We have a waker, sir.

With a gun!

That's it, lad.

You distract him!


-Who's there?

We come in peace.

Our craft has to... travel around the world in less than an hour!

We need a sign for our slei--


Sorry I can't pay you. Where I... come from, we don't have... money!

Christmas 1923... had a heart attack at the reins.

Left ventricle popped out me mouth.

Pushed it back down and carried on!

It's big, isn't it, the Atlantic?

Think we should stop and ask someone?

Pishywibble, we're nearly there!

See, I take the North Star there... as a fixed point.

Then I plot my bearings from....

That's a plane, sir.


I'll have you harpooned, elf.

I thought it would be chillier near England.

Globular warming.

Land ahoy! There it is. Told you!

-There you are. Down.

-Watch that rock!

There you go.


Maybe we pulled to the right a bit.

We're a reindeer short.


They have elephants in France?

The odd stray. They breed in the drains.

This way.

Paris Zoo.

Then this is... where they keep the lions!

They won't eat me.

I'm Santa!

Lie down!

Oh, right.

Call the keeper!

How old is this?


"Here be cannibals"?

Watch out for cannibals.

This isn't France, is it?

Technically, it's known as Africa.

Serengeti National Park, Tanzania.

How can you possibly be sure?

The GPS on my HOHO.

Take her!

Take the elf!

GPS? Why didn't you say?

I'm a wrapping elf. I don't navigate,

I wrap. I use it to store pictures of bows.

She's right. You brought us to Africa!

I've seen it on a stamp.

I'm too young to die, Arthur.

Do something. Arthur!

The old sleigh.

What is happening here?

Was supposed to be chopped up for firewood decades ago.

-How did that devious--?

-Old people, sir.

Shall I get you your stress ball?

We have finer... comms than the Pentagon, and you say... we can't contact him except by some ancient--

(An elf, older than dirt, arrives with the communication device to contact Grandsanta, Arthur and Bryony)

Here comes the cavalry!

Ernie Clicker, sir.

Head of Polar Communications for 46 missions!

Oh, crikey blikey... me and your granddad saw some times!

-I remember once--

-Wow, must catch up soon. Now....

Oh, you're in a hurry. I can tell.

Oh, this is ridiculous.

Could we hurry this?

You can't rush the Signalator.

Got to play her gentle.

So, what do you wish to say?

I wouldn't worry. It's not like they're facing man-eating lions.

Silent night

Holy night

All is calm

All is


I realize

This is mental

But it's all

That I know

It's Christmas

Nice kitty

So please let us go

Sleep in

Heavenly peace

Sleep in

Heavenly peace


Something's coming through.

What does it say?

Get off! No!

That's me Evie, you mangy moron!


That's Gwen's gift!

Only children get to tear the wrapping.


-Automatic tape guns!

-Down, doggy!

Bad doggy!

Laser-guided scissors!

Oh, no, no!

Standard-issue giftwrap!

No time for a bow!

There's always time for a bow!

I can't look.

Not that knob!

Good night!

Oh, no!

Something else!

No, leave it! Don't--

My camera!

Wait! Look!


What's so funny?

Look what they've done to my Evie.

-And the map.

-But it's okay.

We've got this. Look!

(Arthur inputs the address into the HOHO)

Mimosa Avenue, Trelew.

Proceed to the highlighted route.

What's the point? Look at us.

And my camera, totally banjaxed.

How do I get my picture now?

What picture?

The sleigh on the roof, the eight beautiful reindeer... and Santa-- Me!

--going down the "chimbley."

That's what I wanted them to see.

They missed the kid, but I got there.

My way.

That's why you came. Not for Gwen.

HOHO: 1368 miles, then slight left.

For the love of Lulu... bossed about by Tinpot Tom.


Try them again. Keep trying.

All this for one child. In 600 million.

We should turn her off a mo.

Don't worry, sir. Children are... stupid. Either it won't know it got missed... or it'll think it's been bad.

It's a win-win.

You missed one?

A nipper? Cor!

What's all this here for if you miss one?

Could you please type faster?

All right.

Systems critical.

Lead in Christmas.


Peter... let go of my hand, please.

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

And get me IT.

Descend 1,000 feet.


-You are at your destination.


-We did it, we did it!

-We did it!

In 100 yards... turn left.

Straight ahead, left, right.

You are at your client's dwelling.

Hey, steady!

We made it. I survived!

I'll walk home, I'll get a boat, but I am never getting back... in that crazy flying death trap ever again!

Go on.

Get it over.

I want my bed.

What, you're not coming?

You have to deliver the present.

You've got your special coat on.

You're our Santa.

I said me and Evie could get here, and we did.

The rest is just elf work.

Go on, Festive Freddie... sling your hook.

It doesn't matter how we got here.

The sleigh on the roof, the jingle bells, the eight reindeer.

Gwen would never have seen that.

I wish Dad could see this.

It would take such a load off his mind.

So, what are your orders?

You're a Claus.

You give the orders.

Do l?

I'm just happy being an elf, really.

You know, just part of it all.

You want to order me to go through the cat flap?

Yes, that's a great idea.

Do you want to tell me to let you in?

Brilliant. Thank you, Bryony.

And do you want to--?


-The alarm? Definitely, yes.

Is this... your first time?




He likes these slippers even more than you do!

Happy Christmas.

When you put the address into... the HOHO, what did you see?

A list of Trelews.

I just clicked on the first one!

Which was not Trelew, England.

We're in the wrong Trelew!

What's going on?!

They've been watching us.

They've seen Evie.

-It's just like last time.

-Governments tonight... are waking to news of a UFO traveling the globe at incredible speed.

-That's us!

-The clearest... sighting was at this tractor dealership...

-...in ldaho.

-Had eyeballs on its feet... and a pointy little head.

It asked me for a sign.

-We're on the news.

-From the trail in Toronto...

-...these beings do not appear friendly.


-We are online, sir.

-This is... Charlotte. Mexican... police found a furry thing...

-...trying to mate with a dog.

-I have calls...

-...reporting a steam train flying around.

-Steam train? Been on the eggnog?

It's gone black over Mexico.

This thing's going faster... than anything we know of.


-The herd is now in... Mozambique's airspace, threatening the fragile peace... between the two nations.

Two billion items delivered, and we didn't leave a footprint in the snow.

-And now--


We have lost 80 percent of our data.

No, no. We have 18 pulse...

-...data reservoirs of a trillion terabytes!

-Sorry, autosave was off.

Shall I slap him, sir? Quite hard?

Sir... there's a polar bear on Level 6.

Sir? Why is Arthur out there?

He missed one.

A nipper.

I mean... 47785BXK.

Sir, we've got something.

Bryony Shelfley, it's her HOHO.

We can still get there.

-We just have to go faster, higher!

-You've changed your tune.

I'm not going anywhere.

I'm not here!

I've taped myself in! Grandsanta!

Leave me. It's that... terrible night all over again.

What night?

Last time I took Evie for a spin.

I didn't know... it was the Cuban missile crisis!

I nearly started World War III.

Hold still. Someone has to drive.

Oh, no!


Mincer! Come back!


Grandsanta... get here!

Oi! That's me new hip.

Please, I'll read you Gwen's letter.

Stone-deaf. I'm 1 36.

-What's that?

-It's Steve.


-Tell him... I'm not here!

Grandsanta says he's not here.

Hi. I'm looking for a missing relic.

Steve, three words.

-Is the first one "help"?


-You can help us, Steve!

-It was him!

Frosty the Madman.

He forced me to come.

Elf, back me up if you want a career.

-I forced you?

-You see? Look.

What did you want, Grandsanta?

Let me guess.

A picture of you in the sleigh delivering the gift... to show me how it's really done?


You know the picture they'll have tomorrow?

You, led away in handcuffs!

The Santa who was seen.

By everybody on Earth.

The Santa who ruined Christmas.

Ruined it!

We'll fix this, Steve. We'll be back home in the wobble of a reindeer's buttocks.

And Evie can go back in mothballs.

You can forget she ever existed.

You can't just go home.

What about Gwen?

Gwen. For that, you'd threaten my whole operation?

Steve, you said if there was any way to get there, you would.

Well, this is it. Look.

The old sleigh is perfect!

Right. Well, anyway, it goes really fast, even with bits missing.

And we've got quite a few reindeer left.

And, if I'm sick again, I could be sick in a bag.

I'll wrap him one.

We can help them.

No one missed, sir!

All correct presents, present and correct.

If you help us, Steve... we can do it!

Grandsanta and Arthur would be... the heroes of the night, sir!

Come home now!

If we all just gave in... to Christmas spirit, there'd be chaos.

-We're on our way, Steve.


Santa will want us to get to Gwen.

Ask him. Please.

Arthur... this is Dad we're talking about.

There was a time when he cared about every last gift tag, but now... he just wants to be loved and get some rest.

No. He's lying awake, worrying his beard off about Gwen.

Off to the land of nod.

Please do not disturb until December 26th.

-Is that it, dear?


Press the red--


Santa's the most caring man in the world.

So why are you here, not him?

Don't leave me, Arthur!

Poor old man and his reindeer, on our own at Christmas?

At least have the decency to finish us off with a rock!

Poor Evie.

Sun'll be up soon.

It's Christmas!

Christmas is for kids.

You grow out of it.

What, in the last six minutes?

I know what you all say about me, you know.

"He belongs in the South Pole."

"Dear Arthur, what a puzzle."

Well, you were right.

All that fuss over one kid.

I was being ridiculous.

This is nice.

It's good to get away from it all, you know.

All the Christmas fuss.

I'm sorry I messed things up, lad.

You see... the night l last took Evie out... when there was all that fuss... your father came to me.

I'll never forget it.

Couldn't look me in the eye.

"Dad," he says.

"Steve thinks it best you don't fly again. We're scrapping the sleigh."

Me own son... who used to sit where you sat, looking up at me.

I just wanted them to remember... who l used to be.

I was a bit like you, lad.

Keen as cranberry.

So was your dad.

You get old, that's all.

Everything changes.

Does it?

How can l ever write another letter saying that Santa cares?

Good night, Dad.

Sleep well.

Sir, we know you shouldn't believe rumors, but we do.

Is it true you missed a child?

Me? No, no, no.

Well, in a way, yes.

It was just one.

In fact, not even that.

Naught point lots more naughts... then a number and some sort of percent at the end.

Not really an error, just a one.

One child doesn't matter? Which one?

Well, I.... It's not that--

I did nine ones in Greece.

-Did those matter?

-What about my ones... in Germany? One of them was twins!

They don't matter half each.

Why don't you ask Steve?

He can explain. Fiendishly clever.

But aren't you in charge, sir?

Of course. l'm Santa.

Sir... ...if the one that got missed doesn't matter... why have Arthur and Grandsanta gone to take it?


-Malcolm, what's this about Arthur?

He's crazy.

Is there a list of children who don't matter?

Santa said they don't matter 100 percent.

Is it true children aren't real, they're just antimatter?

Do not-- Look. Look!

I festivized every single country in the world. You see?

This one, this one, this one.

All of them.

I mean, who cares about one single tiny child?

I do.


My poor boy.

Why on earth would he--?

You're his brother, Steve.

How could you let him?

And about this child you missed... I'm really not sure you made the right decision.

Is that bird doo on your shoulder?


Over there is Satellite... Tracking, Navigation, Data Analysis.

Coffee machine's by the door.

Good night, Santa.

I'll be right back.

Dear Xiao-Ling, thanks for your letter... and drawing of Santa tripping over your dog.

It was hilarious.

Dear Alessandro... I'm sorry your family's had a hard year, but Santa is real.

Dear Lars, I promise Santa will come.

He's the greatest man ever.

-Can I burn this?


There's millions like it.

This picture.

This drawing!

It isn't of Dad... or you... or Steve.

This is Santa!

And as long we get the bike to Gwen before she wakes up, then Santa came!

And he cares!


Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to reach

Gwen Hines on Christmas Day

Jingle Bells

This boat smells

Three thousand miles to go

Oh, dear.

I've seen this before.

Sleigh fever, they call it.

Pressure of Christmas sends a man doolally-tap.

Santa Claus XVl got it, 1802.

Every child that year got a sausage nailed to a piece of bark.

Arthur, do you really think you can row the Atlantic Ocean in the next...

-...37 minutes?

-It's not... too late yet.

I just have to keep going.

We need a blunt instrument.

Knock him out and regroup.

Make a legal U-turn, then slight right in 4228 miles.

You do know we're going round in circles?

You know, we're not the only ones.

Maybe I will see Evie again.

-What do you mean?

-Reindeer are... brave, powerful beasts... but they're also dappled cretins with twigs on their heads.

They'll just keep going in a straight line right round the world.

They'll be way up in the sky, flying... at unimaginable speed, but they'll pass...

-...right over our heads.


We can get the sleigh back!

Chief De Silva.

-Where is this UFO?

-It's circling the Earth, ma'am.

Nineteen minutes ago, it went into orbit.

You? Up there? Catch that with this?

Magic dust.

You crack it over your head.

You'll have to focus. The sleigh'll be coming at you at 45,000 miles an hour.


-You'll be torn... in half!

Depends on the angle the sleigh hits.

You might just get beheaded.

I've got a phobia of being beheaded, and heights and speed and reindeer... and buttons.


Yeah, I'm pretty much scared of everything.

Gwen thinks you're coming.

You can't do this. Yes, you can!

No, you can't. Yes, you can!

Come on, Arthur!

Don't worry. Only a raving lunatic--

I have to worry!

It's the only thing l'm good at!

Worry me.

The sleigh'll be back any minute.

Arthur: Come on. Worry me, quickly!

Grandsanta: Imagine Gwen, all alone...nothing under the tree.

Bryony: Here we go.

(Arthur is now high in the air holding onto the anchor and ribbon) No! Don't like this! Stop! Stop!

Get me down!

The tears as she finds she's been left out.

Screaming, "Santa didn't come!"

Oh, Gwen.

No! It's just...too high!

Bryony: Gwen in the street...surrounded by kids on new bikes, pointing: "That's the girl that Santa hates!" She runs away, alcoholic by the age of 9. Dead before she's even--!

(Grandsanta stops her before she can finish the sentence)

Grandsanta: She may never build a snowman again!

Arthur: What if there are buttons on the sleigh I don't know about?!

Bryony: Here it is!

(Arthur hooks the anchor to the sleigh, gets pulled along, carefully swings to the sleigh, rights it and changes course)

(Grandsanta whistles Good King Wenceslas)

Bryony: How do you think he's...?

Grandsanta: Fine, fine. Probably just....

Bryony: So how come they didn't scrap the sleigh, sir?

Grandsanta: I threatened the elves. Said I'd feed 'em to the polar bears.

(Bryony is silent)

Grandsanta: Elf, how do you fancy being the one to tell his parents about all this?

(Arthur pulls the brake lever and the sleigh, now right-side up, falls onto the boat with Bryony, Grandsanta and his reindeer)


-You did it!

Arthur: I did it with worry!

Oh, I was sure you'd die. It was great!

Bryony's HOHO: Proceed to the highlighted route.

Proceed to the highlighted....

(sinks into the ocean)

Grandsanta: Just keep worrying about Gwen. I'll find a way there, boy. Whatever it takes. To Trelew!

Santa: Margaret. Hand me my Me suit. All sorted. Steve's...holding the fort...while I deliver the present, yes...and find Arthur and Father.

Mrs. Santa: Well done, dear. Trelew's on a course of 187.7 degrees from the geographic pole...but as it's the old sleigh...allow a drift margin of 1000 miles either side of the meridian. Got a sweater for Arthur...your father's pills...and some nice sweet tea.

(Steve opens the curtains)

North Pole Computer: Curtains. S-1 dented.

Peter: Sir. Sir!

North Pole Computer: Big scratch...down side.

(Steve reads note Santa left on metal shutters)

"Popped out to take present. Turkey sandwich in fridge.

Mum and Dad."

North Pole Computer: Espresso machine broken.

Steve: That idiot, Arthur. He's sent...everyone crazy.

He'll destroy Christmas.

Peter: And you'll never get to be Santa.

(Steve crawls under the shutters just in time to see the S-1 prepare to leave)

Peter: Steven!

(Santa inputs the address)

Santa: 23 Mimosa Avenue, Trelew.

Mrs. Santa: Malcolm...there's no harm in using a manual. Men.

Santa: Margaret, I order you to disembark. It's not safe.

(Mrs. Santa Corrects the position as the oxygen masks come down due to Santa trying to start the S-1)

Mrs. Santa: Piffle. I did a microlight flying course on the Internet. It can't be that different.

Santa: Steve.

(Visibly annoyed)

Steve: You've dented it! You take it out without asking?

Mrs. Santa: Malcolm, you told me he knew. You know how Steve feels about his S-1.

Santa: It's my S-1 . S for "Santa." I'm flying to this child.

Steve: Of course she's all that matters. Not me, your son. Not the 2 billion things l did right tonight. No!

Santa: This is about that pool table, isn't it? I told you, you should've written to me.

Steve: I was 8. You're my dad!

Mrs. Santa: For goodness sake! Arthur and Grandsanta are out there...probably not wearing nearly enough layers...and you two are bickering over a big red toy?!

Santa: I'm not bickering. If Steven could just...stand back--

(Airbag inflates)

S-1 Computer: Air bag.

Santa: You drive, Steven.

Steve (readies the S-1 for takeoff): Thank you. So since gift delivery to child 47785BXK...is all that seems...to matter...I'll do it myself. Then we'll pick up Arthur and Grandsanta from whatever ditch they ended up in.

S-1 Computer: Maximum thrust.

Elf: When Santa said he'd be right back...

...what do you think he--?

He's not coming back!

The Santas are leaving!

Children don't matter?

Christmas doesn't matter!

Nothing matters!

1816 Elf: It's like 1816!

Abandon the North Pole!

Deborah: Everybody, panic!

(Elf opens a panel that says "In Case of It Being Like 1816, Press Here")

North Pole Computer: Are you sure you want to delete Christmas?

(Elf presses button)

Meltdown: 10 minutes and counting.

-Head south!

-lt's all south from here, you fool!

CAPTION: 7:13AM Reindeer: 3.5

l know where we can find... a map, lad!

A bit... risky, this.

Breaking the rules, even in the old days.


Biggest map in the world!


Silva: Friends, on this night of peace, we stand confronted...

by an unknown danger.

Aliens. Aliens from space.

-Blast them from the skies!

-Let us do an autopsy.

But maybe the aliens come in peace?

They burst an inflatable... Santa Claus in Toronto.

On Christmas night!

-What a terrible thing.

-Let us attempt contact... but be ready to save our planet.

Hold tight, lad. This is where it gets... really rough.

Not now... you sack of antlers.

Alert level six.

It's coming down through the atmosphere.

We'll see it.

Forty-six, 45... 44, 43....

They'll be waiting for us, sir.

We were on the news.

All their technology against my Evie.

Oh, come on. Let's do it with worry!

Santa mustn't be seen, eh, lad?

Let's give them... something to shoot at.

We have visual.

Here it comes.

Take us to your leader.


No sign of anyone.

-The sun's coming up!

-Come on, lad! You can... do it! Move your hooves!

Mankind greets you. Do you copy?

Season's greetings from mankind.

Good morning, do you copy?

The hull is some kind of woody substance, ma'am.

Like wood.

Coated in lead paint.

The engine seems to be alive.

And furry.

Come on, lad!

Put your back... into it!

l have something. It's very faint but--

Scramble drone.

That's it, there!

We made it!

Not quite.


It's right up me steam pipe!

-lt's tracking something electronic!

-We haven't got… any "electrickery." Just wood... and brass and--

Oh, dear.

-Your slipper!

-Your slipper!

We have lock.

We got to get you down there, lad.

-They'll see us! We'll be stopped!

-Give me that.

-What are you doing?

-lt's Evie they're after.

She doesn't fit this world, Arthur.

She's a relic.


l always knew she'd be needed one more time.

You go on. We'll let them have her.

You're coming too.

You were right, Arthur. lt doesn't matter how Santa's gift gets there.

Doesn't even matter if it's...

-...Mr. Postman in his spaceship.

-As long as it gets there.

You made it happen, lad.

No one got left out.

Get off.

Now, do as l say.

They're firing on us!

-A death ray!

-Made of chocolate... and oranges.

-Unidentified... varnished object... turn back or we shoot.


Turn back.

Happy Christmas!

ln Santa we believe!

Go on, elf.

You too.

Fire missiles.

This is it, old fella.

Maybe the next... Santa never sat in my Evie... but Arthur did.

And he's as good a man as any Santa there's ever been.

Goodbye, Evie.

Thank you, everyone.

You just saved Christmas.


Out with the old, in with the new.

Well done, dear.

Poor Arthur. He tried so hard.

-He's flunked again.

-Of course... he hasn't, dear.

We're here. The little girl will get her present.

l think he's done rather splendidly.

My Margaret.

Good morning, Gwen. Ho, ho, et cetera.

Apologies for the minor delay.

I'm sure that even a child can understand... that in an operation as complex as Christmas... there's always an insignificant margin of error... which is you. As a gesture... I've upgraded you to the Glamorfast Ultra X-3... which retails at 9.99 more than your requested gift.

Bigger ergo better.

lf you wouldn't mind just signing a legal waiver?

(Pedro is confused)

Pedro: No lo entiendo, Señor. Soy Pedro.

Steve: Pedro? A boy? A Spanish boy?

This is an error. Uh, No Hablo Español.

Now get off the bike.

Will you get--?

No, no, no. Please don't cry.

No cry-o.

No "sob-idad."

CAPTION: 7:36AM Trelew, England Sunrise: 3 Minutes

It's over a mile.

We've got no sleigh, no reindeer, and you can't even walk.

What are you doing?

I can cycle!

Oi! Come back!

What about the wrapping?!

The church. She lives by the church!

Happy Christmas, cows!

(North Pole Computer is malfunctioning)

North Pole Computer: Meltdown. Ten seconds to figgy Flensburg. Snowman. German, leave out the carrot. Is Santa on shoe?

What the--?!

Look, everyone! It's Arthur!

He's delivering the present.

-It's Arthur.

-Hooray for Arthur!

North Pole Computer: Meltdown paused.

Come back!

(Grandsanta has landed is a garbage can)

Grandsanta: Oh, my head.

(Imagines his reindeer young again)

Grandsanta: Ye baubles, a beautiful young reindeer. So who am I, then?

Santa: Okay, so I'm not great with children. Does that make me a bad Santa?

Steve: You're hardly perfect. Let me guess. You put in the address, you saw a list of Trelews...and just clicked on the first one? You're just like Arthur.

Santa: Am l?

North Pole...

But, sir... it's Arthur. He's still going.

Elves: Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!


Bryony (re-wrapping the bike): No one gets an unwrapped present on my watch. Three bits of sticky tape. Three. (Wraps the seat) Stand up! Finger!

Arthur: The church!

Bryony: (wraps the right pedal) Right foot. (wraps the left pedal) Left foot.

(throws the empty cardboard roll into the paper receptacle)

Arthur: There it is!

Bryony: One! Hands up!

Elves: Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!

Arthur: Nearly there!

Bryony: Front wheel! Two!

Arthur: Yes! That's it, there!

Bryony: Back wheel! Ready?

Arthur: Do it!

Bryony: Here we go! Three!

(bike flies into the air and Bryony gets caught up in the tree)

Elf down.

Arthur: Bryony?

Bryony: Go on, Arthur. Quick!

Arthur: There's always time for a bow. (puts bow on bike)

No, we can't be too late. It's so unfair.

(The sun rises as the S-1 arrives camouflaged making it dark over Trelew)

Merry Christmas! All the Santas taking the missing present. lt's beautiful! Hug me. Hug me.

(Arthur has tied a ribbon to a tag that says "under the tree" and placed it in her stocking on her bed which leads downstairs to the tree with the bike under it)

Arthur (hugs Santa): Dad! You came! I knew you would. You wouldn't just go to bed and forget Gwen. You're Santa!

(Steve and Grandsanta are fighting over who should put the bike under the tree)

Steve: Give me that. I'm Santa! I'm delivering it!

Grandsanta: Don't be silly, I'm Santa. Can't you see from me suit?

Santa: I am actually Santa, and l think it would be best--

Steve: I'm Santa. You handed over--

Santa: I didn't in fact, technically--

Steve: You said I could drive--

Grandsanta: I'm Santa, you naughty boys. Here, have a bonbon.

(Gives Steve an apple core)

Steve: You--

(Arthur shushes them)

Gwen: It's Christmas!

Arthur: Please. Gwen just has to have a present from Santa. Arthur starts to hand it to Santa as Steve looks at him)

Santa: You do it, Arthur.

Gwen: Mummy! Daddy! Wake up!

(Arthur quickly puts the present under the tree)

Gwen: There's a ribbon! To downstairs!

Father, please keep it down.

(Grandsanta empties the bag of garbage he came down the chimney with as Arthur picks up the garbage)

(Steve and Santa carry Grandsanta out of the room and into a closet)

Grandsanta: Merry Christmas, everyone.

(As they all prepare to leave through the closet window)

Arthur: Dad, wait. Please, let's....

(they all observe Gwen)

Santa: In all my years, I've never actually... Always so busy. Too busy. I'm not good at... ln my day, a pat on the back and a walnut went a long way.

Gwen: Mummy, Daddy, come on! Look, a ribbon to downstairs! Come on, then. l think it's under the tree!

Oh, look!

What is it?

I can see pink!

It's a bike!

Santa brought me the bike l wanted!

Did he?

Can I have a go?

Please, please, please?

Santa: Steve... you deserve to be Santa.

But, Steve... I wonder if Gwen is right.

Gwen (riding the bike near the tree) Watch out. Careful...I'm gonna bump into you.

Oh, no.

Steve: I'll be the candle, eh?

Grandsanta: Whoopee!

Santa: (puts us hands on Arthur and Steve's shoulders) You're better men than....Both of you.

(Arthur is preparing to go up into the S-1 when he falls face first into the snow giving him a beard. He puffs out his chest to look like Santa as a squirrel runs up Gwen's shoulder and Arthur disappears)

Gwen: A bike and... a squirrel!

Bryony: Drop complete. And we have a new Santa!

North Pole Computer: Christmas accomplished. Commence... decking halls.

Peter: You know, I've always liked Arthur. Do you think he likes espresso?

North Pole Computer: And may 100 percent of your Christmases be white.