by Robert Williams

It was Christmas Eve and, quite frankly, based on the record of past years, Des and Mick were not looking forward to Christmas Day. One year they had been forced to spend the night before Christmas in an igloo in Mrs Greasy's backyard; another year Mrs Greasy had threatened to single-handedly decimate the turkey population; and worst of all, the previous year they had spent the whole of Christmas trapped inside Mrs Greasy's cafe. And every Christmas for as long as Des could remember had been ruined by Mrs Greasy's attempts at cooking their Christmas dinner.

But never fear - the ever perceptive Des believed he had identified the common factor behind all these disasters.

"It's Mrs Greasy, isn't it!" exclaimed Des. "Every year, somehow or other, Mrs Greasy always manages to ruin our Christmas! But don't worry - I have a plan that cannot fail!!"

"You're going to kill her?" said Mick.

"That is a plan that would indeed not fail," said Des. "However it's illegal. So instead I'm going to book us both a Christmas break in at a classy country hotel!! Miles away from Mrs Greasy and her Christmas dinner!!"

"Oh no," groaned Mick. "Do you have to? I don't like it when you book us into places! Something always seems to go wrong!! Like the time you booked us into a holiday cottage that was about to be demolished!"

"I see, you don't trust me," sighed Des. "Tell you what then, before I make the booking, I'll drive over there and check it out, see what it's like!"

"Well...all right," said Mick.

"I'd better set off now then, got a long journey ahead of me!" said Des.

"Where is this hotel, then?" said Mick.

"It's near Dorchester," said Des.

"Dorchester?" said Mick. "Bit of a long way to go, isn't it?!"

"Nowhere is too far from Mrs Greasy," grinned Des.

Des drove all the way down to the Grange Hotel in Dorchester, to see what it was like. When he got there he had a look around, and then rung up Mick.

"It's superb!" said Des. "Very luxurious, very classy, and they do a fantastic Christmas dinner!! So I've booked us a room each!!"

"You needn't have bothered," said Mick. "Mrs Greasy's just closed her cafe for refurbishment! She doesn't open again until the New Year!!"

"What?!?!?!" exclaimed Des. "That's not like her!! Where's she gone then?"

"No idea," said Mick. "Haven't seen her anywhere!"

"Oh no...you don't think she could be coming here?!" said Des.

"Of course not, that would be way too much of a coincidence!" said Mick. "But then again, knowing our luck..."

"I'll check with reception," said Des. He went over to the reception desk. "Excuse me, has anyone by the name of Greasy booked a room here?"

"Greasy?! That's a stupid name!" said the receptionist.

"Yes I know!" said Des.

The receptionist checked the booking sheets.

"No, no one of that name," said the receptionist.

"Are there still any more rooms available over Christmas?" asked Des, worried that Mrs Greasy might still make a booking.

"Yes, we've got five rooms available," said the receptionist.

"Hmmm..." thought Des. "Okay...I'd like to book those rooms as well. In the names of...Messrs Coach, Kippers, Medford, Rogers and Files." His heart sank when he realised how much more this was going to cost him.

"You've done what?!?!" exclaimed Mick when Des told him what he had done. "Why have you invited that lot?! I thought we were supposed to be getting away from them!!"

"I'm sorry, but we can't risk Mrs Greasy booking a room here!" said Des.

"Okay, just as long as Mrs Greasy doesn't find out where we've gone," sighed Mick.

"Yes, she must be around there somewhere, she would never just go without telling us!" said Des.

Des drove back to Tolworth, and as he drove past Mrs Greasy's cafe he saw that it was indeed closed for refurbishment. He peered through the window and saw that several workmen were busy inside redecorating, whilst outside some more men were giving the building a new lick of paint. There was also a note in the window, but as it was getting dark Des couldn't see what it said.

When he arrived back at his house, he put his key in the lock, but when he opened the door he was shocked to find that it made a bing-bong noise - in fact, exactly the same noise that Mrs Greasy's cafe door made when you opened it. He went to walk into the kitchen - but stopped when he thought he saw someone moving about in there.

"Burglars!!" exclaimed Des.

He looked around the hallway for a weapon. Not able to find anything suitable, he picked up the hat stand, and carefully crept into the kitchen. He was about to whack the intruder over the head with the hat stand when they turned round and Des saw who it was.

"Mrs Greasy?!?! What are you doing here?!?!"

"Put that hat stand down Des, you could cause someone a nasty injury with that thing," said Mrs G. Des did so. "Why do you own a hat stand anyway, you don't own any hats!"

"Umm..." said Des. "Look, never mind that, how did you get in?!?!"

"I used the key you left under the flower pot," said Mrs Greasy.

"But...but...why are you here?!?!"

"As you have probably noticed, my cafe is currently undergoing an extensive programme of refurbishment over the festive period," said Mrs Greasy.

"How can you afford that?!" said Des.

"Thanks to the death of my dreadful Great Aunt Gretchen Greasy who I never liked but left me a fortune in her will," said Mrs Greasy. "In fact, I've got so much money now I've even taken out a Sky subscription with all the channels, even the sports channels that I'm not interested in!!"

"Whoopee," said Des.

"Now obviously since this is one of the busiest times of year I cannot possibly afford to close the cafe!!" said Mrs G.

"Cannot afford to?!" said Des. "You just said you've inherited a fortune!!"

"So I've decided to temporarily move my cafe in here!" said Mrs G.

"You've done what?!?!" exclaimed Des. He rushed into his living room, to find that all the furniture had vanished and instead there were a load of tables and chairs crammed in there. "What have you done?!?! Why is it always me?!?! Why don't I get a say in this?!?! This is my house, you know!!"

"I did ask the others, but they said they didn't want me moving my cafe into their living rooms," said Mrs G.

"What about me?!?! Neither do I!!!" exclaimed Des. "Why didn't you ask me?!?!"

"Because you weren't here to ask, you'd gone off somewhere!" said Mrs G. "Where were you, anyway?"

"Oh, I'd just gone to...look, that's none of your business!" said Des.

"Anyway, I didn't think you'd mind," said Mrs G. "I don't remember any objections when I turned your living room into a television studio!"

"You obviously have a short memory," said Des. "Cor, what that burning I can smell?!"

"Oh no!!" exclaimed Mrs G. She opened Des's oven and smoke poured out. "Now look what you've made me do with your all complaining!! Your Christmas dinner's ruined!!"

As the smoke cleared, Des looked at the blackened turkey that Mrs G had been cooking.

"I don't know, looks pretty much the same as what you usually serve us on Christmas Day," said Des.

"Luckily, I've got a spare," said Mrs Greasy.

"Now, about Christmas dinner," said Des. "I don't really think there's any need to put too much effort into it this year."

"What are you talking about?!?! I always cook you your Christmas dinner!!"

"Yes...but...I don't really fancy a turkey this year...in fact I might just skip Christmas dinner altogether..."

"Nonsense," said Mrs G. "And anyway, there's still everyone else to cook for!"

"Ummm...I think they might be skipping it as well!!"

"I'm not talking about them, I'm talking about my family!!"

"Your family?!?!" exclaimed Des.

"That's right, my relatives always come to stay with me for Christmas!" said Mrs G.

"So...they'll be staying with you at the cafe then?" said Des.

"Now who's got a short memory?!" said Mrs G. "It's being refurbished, isn't it!! Until New Year's Day, Mrs Greasy's cafe has officially relocated here, lock stock and barrel!!"

"So...they're coming here?!?!" said Des, horrified.

"Yes!" said Mrs G. "I expect they'll start arriving shortly!!"

Just then Des's doorbell rang. Mrs Greasy rushed past Des and opened the door.

"Ah, Ms Greasy, how nice to see you, Merry Christmas!!" greeted Mrs Greasy.

"Evening Greasy, Merry Christmas!" said Ms Greasy, Mrs Greasy's even larger, well-built sister, in her deep, forceful, military voice. "And Merry Christmas, D-D-Des!"

"Err, h-h-hello Ms G-G-Greasy, M-M-Merry C-C-Christmas," stuttered Des, who was permanently in fear of Ms Greasy. "And n-n-nice to s-s-see you l-l-looking so f-f-festive!"

Ms Greasy was wearing her usual army gear, with a tiny bit of tinsel on it.

"Nice place you've got here, D-D-Des," said Ms Greasy. "So have you got me my Christmas card, then?!"

"Errrrrrr..."

Just then the doorbell rang again. Mrs Greasy opened the door, and there was another member of the Greasy clan standing there.

"Mrs Greasy, how nice to see you!!" said Mrs Greasy. "Merry Christmas!! Des, this is my cousin, Mrs Greasy."

"Very nice to meet you, this is most kind of you to offer your house to us this Christmas!" said the other Mrs Greasy.

"Yes, he's a jolly decent fellow that Des, always happy to help us out!" said Mrs Greasy.

Des scowled. He wasn't sure whether Mrs Greasy was being sarcastic or not.

Before long, Des's house had become crowded out with members of the Greasy family. Des was at his wit's end. So he decided to ring Mick.

"Mick, I need help!" said Des.

"Tell me something new," said Mick.

"My house has been taken over by the Family Greasy!" said Des. "There are eight Mrs Greasys here, and the worrying thing is, the Mrs Greasy we know is the slimmest of the lot!!"

"Good grief!" said Mick.

"So what am I going to do?!?!" whined Des. "She's going to cook me my Christmas dinner!!"

"I don't know, look I can't talk now, I'm busy packing for our Christmas break!" said Mick. "You're supposed to be coming as well, remember?!"

"Oh yes!" said Des. "Thanks!"

Des put the phone down.

"Mrs Greasy!" called Des. Several of the Greasys turned to him. Des sighed. "The Mrs Greasy who runs Mrs Greasy's Cafe."

"What is it, Des?" said Mrs G.

"I'm not staying for Christmas, I've booked in at a hotel."

"Don't be ridiculous, you can't go, you're our host!! You will stay right where you are!!"

"Okay!" said Des.

And so while Mick and the others departed for their Christmas break at the Grange Hotel, Des found himself stuck with all the Greasys. Tea was inevitably cooked by Mrs Greasy, and Des found himself eating it with them in what used to be his living room. The problem was, there were so many tables and chairs squashed into the relatively small room, and so many large people squashed into these chairs, that Des found himself completely trapped.

"Mrs Greasy, I can't get out," said Des.

"What do you want to get out for, this is your house!" said Mrs G.

"I'm tired, I want to go to bed," said Des. "Hang on...that's a thought - where's everyone going to sleep?!"

"That's no problem," said Mrs G. "Mrs Greasy, Mrs Greasy and Miss Greasy are sleeping in the back bedroom, Mrs Greasy, Ms Greasy and myself are sleeping in the front bedroom, and Miss Greasy and Lady Greasy are sleeping in the small bedroom."

"Right," said Des. "And what about me?"

"Oooh, that's a thought..." said Mrs G. "I forgot about you... Well you can sleep on your settee!"

"And where, pray, is my settee?" said Des.

"Oooh, that's a thought..." said Mrs G. "It's in the garage."

"Great," said Des. "Just great. I'll go out this way, then."

Des opened the window and exited that way.

"Don't forget to clean your teeth!" said Mrs Greasy.

Des went back inside the house via the front door, above which was now a sign which read 'MRS GREASY'S CAFE @ DES'S HOUSE'. He fetched his pyjamas and went into the garage. He lay down on his settee which was in there, along with most of the other living room furniture.

After an hour or two of trying, Des couldn't get to sleep, not surprisingly since it was very cold in there. So he picked up his mobile phone and rang up the Grange Hotel to see if the others had arrived there yet.

"Hello, can I speak to Mr Woolley please?" said Des to the receptionist.

"Certainly sir, putting you through," said the receptionist.

"Mick, I need help!" said Des.

"Not again," said Mick. "Where are you, you're all echoey! You sound like you're in the garage!!"

"Well...I am..." said Des.

Mick raised his eyebrows to the ceiling.

"What do you want Des, I'm trying to get to sleep," said Mick.

"Is it nice there?" said Des.

"Yes, I take it all back, this place is superb!!" said Mick. "Aren't you coming then?!"

"Well yes, but Mrs Greasy..."

"Forget Mrs Greasy!" said Mick. "You mustn't let her boss you about!! You're your own man, aren't you?!"

"Yes, I am!" said Des.

"So what are you waiting for?" said Mick.

"The thing is...I've only got my jim-jams!! All my other clothes are in the house!!"

"Well go and get them then!!" said Mick. "And then get out of the house and get down here for goodness sake!!"

"Right!!" said Des. "See you in the morning!!"

Des opened the door at the back of the garage and walked into the darkened house. He crept up the stairs and into his bedroom, in which he found Mrs Greasy, her cousin Mrs Greasy, and her sister Ms Greasy all fast asleep, and snoring away to prove it. Unfortunately Ms Greasy, the largest of the lot, was in a sleeping bag right in front of Des's wardrobe.

"Oh brilliant," thought Des. "There's no way I can open the wardrobe without disturbing her!!"

Des stood and thought for a bit.

"Well, there's nothing else for it," he said to himself.

He went over to Ms Greasy in her sleeping bag, and started to roll her across the floor.

"Blimey, this is heavy!!" said Des, as he struggled to heave the slumbering Ms Greasy out of the way. Remarkably, she remained fast asleep. Then he opened the wardrobe, cringing as the door creaked open. He grabbed some clothes, closed the door, cringing as it creaked again. But thankfully, none of them woke up. He stepped over Ms Greasy and hurried out of the room.

"Phew, got away with it!!" he said to himself. Not wanting to drive to Dorchester in his pyjamas, he changed into some clothes, and packed the rest into a suitcase. He then opened the front door - forgetting that Mrs Greasy had installed a bing-bong noise on it. Immediately, all the snoring from upstairs stopped.

"Oh no!" said Des.

Des froze as someone crept down the stairs and picked up the hat stand. They were about to whack Des over the head when Des called out.

"It's me!!!"

"Des, what on earth are you up to?!" exclaimed Mrs Greasy, switching the light on.

"I was, um, just going for a walk," said Des.

"At this time of night?!" exclaimed Mrs G. "With a suitcase?!?!"

"Well, you see, um..."

"Des, I'm really not interested in your excuses," said Mrs G. "Just go back to bed and stop disturbing us!!"

"Bed?!" said Des. "What is she talking about, I'm not privileged enough to be entitled to a bed round here any more!"

Des went back to the garage, and this time took a heater with him. He rang up Mick again.

"Now what?!?!" exclaimed Mick.

"Sorry," said Des. "I'm not coming."

Mick tutted. "So what?!?!" He slammed the phone down and went back to sleep.

Des lay down on the settee, and eventually managed to get to sleep as well.

The next morning - Christmas morning - Des awoke. He went into the house to find that a blazing row was under way.

"Blimey, 10.15 on Christmas morning and it's taken this long for the family to start rowing," muttered Des.

Just then Mrs Greasy stormed out of the living room.

"Mrs Greasy, what's all the noise about?!" said Des.

"This!!" exclaimed Mrs Greasy, holding out a DVD at him.

"It's a James Bond DVD," said Des. "'The Living Daylights'."

"That's right!" said Mrs Greasy. "A present from Mrs Greasy!!"

"So what's the problem?" said Des.

"It sparked off a discussion about who is the best Bond of all time!!" exclaimed Mrs G.

"Oh no," groaned Des, his heart sinking.

"I said it was Daniel Craig," said Mrs G. "They all agreed it was Timothy Dalton!!" She picked up her coat and bag.

"Where are you going?!" exclaimed Des.

"I'm not spending the rest of my Christmas with that bunch!!" said Mrs G. "I'm going to find a room at a hotel or something. You can run the cafe while I'm away!!"

And with that, she stormed out of the house.

A bemused Des peered into the living room.

"Looks like you're cooking us our Christmas dinner now, D-D-Des," said Ms Greasy, forcefully. "It'd better be good!"

"C-C-Christmas dinner?!?!" said Des. "I've never cooked Christmas dinner before!! Err...does anyone like chocolate biscuits?"

Over at the Grange Hotel, Mick, Clive, Wayne, Mike, Dickie and Farmer Files were in the lounge, enjoying a wonderful Christmas morning. They had swapped presents, listened to some carols and were now salivating at the prospect of their first edible Christmas dinner in years.

"Hmmm, just smell that turkey!" said Clive. "I can't wait!!"

"Me neither!" said Mick.

"What 'appened to Des, I thought he was comin'!!" said Wayne.

"Don't spoil things!" said Clive.

"He's not coming now," said Mick. "And now it's too late, I've cancelled his booking."

Just then the receptionist came through with a call for Mick.

"Oh, I wonder who that could be," sighed Mick, as he went through to the reception.

"Mick, I've got a problem," said Des, for it was him on the phone.

"Now what?!?!" exclaimed Mick.

"How do you cook a turkey?" asked Des.

"Why do you want to know that, isn't Mrs Greasy cooking your Christmas dinner?"

"She's gone!"

"Gone?! Gone where?!"

"I don't know!" whined Des. "And now I've got seven other members of the Greasy family to cook for!!"

"Umm...tell you what...I'll ring you back when I think of something," said Mick.

"Well hurry up then!" said Des.

As soon as Mick put the phone down a waiter walked past and offered him a complementary glass of wine and a mince pie.

"Don't mind if I do!" said Mick, tucking in and promptly forgetting about Des's dilemma.

The gang's Christmas dinner grew ever nearer. Eventually, the gong was bonged, and all the guests proceeded to gather in the dining room. Unfortunately, just as Mick was about to go in with them he was accosted by the receptionist once again.

"Call for you, Mr Woolley!"

"Mick, have you thought of anything yet?!?!" exclaimed Des on the phone. "I think things round here are about to turn ugly - if they're not ugly enough as it is!"

"Oh, um, look just grab the turkey and stick it in the oven for bit..."

"But I haven't got a turkey, Mrs Greasy burnt both of them..."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Mick, dropping the phone in shock. For who should walk into the hotel lobby but Mrs Greasy!

"Good afternoon," said Mrs G to the receptionist. "And a Merry Christmas. The name's Mrs Greasy."

"Greasy?! That's a...unusual name," said the receptionist.

"Yes, well I've booked a room with you," said Mrs G.

"You're very lucky, we were fully booked until we had a cancellation this morning!" said the receptionist.

Mrs Greasy then looked round and was surprised to see Mick looking at her with his mouth wide open in horror.

"Mick, what are you doing here?!?!" exclaimed Mrs G.

"Errrrrrr..."

"What's that I can smell?!"

"Christmas dinner..."

"Smells horrible!!" exclaimed Mrs G. "Don't worry, I'll get it sorted!!"

Mrs Greasy rushed into the dining room, where the waiter was about to start carving the turkey.

"Look at that turkey, it's hardly been cooked!!" exclaimed Mrs G.

To the guests' horror (especially Clive, Wayne, Dickie, Files and Mike's) she picked up the turkey and whisked it into the kitchen.

"I'd give that another couple of hours if I were you!" said Mrs Greasy to the chef. "Good grief, look at this kitchen, it's in a right state! Looks like I'm going to be busy round here!!"

Meanwhile, Des was still hanging on the telephone.

"Mick? Mick? Where are you? Are you all right?"

Mick picked the telephone up again.

"Des, get that turkey in the oven, I'm coming back!"

"But I just said, I haven't got one..."

But Mick had put the phone down. Des went back into his living room-cum-cafe where all of his guests were waiting.

"Sorry, bit of a delay with Christmas dinner, um, so in the meantime, why don't we have a debate? I know, let's decide who's the best James Bond of all time. I say it's Michael Caine..."

Copyright © Robert Williams