The gentleman with the sword -- no Roundhead he! -- continues to sip his hot drink and ruminate upon the reindeer fallen through the hole in the roof and are now clinging precariously to the tottering tree.

Oh deer, he thinks. I hope that they don't horn in on the rescue work. Antler all, that's the fire brigade's job and it would just sleigh them if they failed at it. Eight reindeer, not so tiny, who carry bootiful things at Christmas, Old and New.

He had successfully dodged the jello tsunami by jumping up and clinging to the rafters until after it passed, when he dropped softly back into his seat, drying it before he landed. Lime jello plays hell with white breeches.