The Man Who Invented Christmas Page #3
chapter done by the end of the year.
You like a deadline.
- Do you mind telling me what it's about?
- I'll leave that up to you.
- [footsteps]
- [woman laughing, faint]
[woman hooting loudly]
[hooting]
[hooting]
[woman] And on Christmas
Eve, they say,
and the fire spirits
pour into the night.
And then
the Lord of the Dead
leads all of the spirits
into a wild hunt.
And he calls to them...
[loud hooting]
[children giggling]
- Do we have a new housemaid?
- What?
Uh, yes. Tara.
She's Irish.
Charley adores her.
What are you doing?
- It was only a stub.
- Another hour in that.
- Oh, really, Charles.
- If you carry on like this, we'll end up in the poor house.
- You're funny.
- I'm not joking.
Charles!
any beggar in the street.
You insist we move to a bigger house
and order in all new fixtures,
and then you complain
about a new candle.
Debt is an ogre, Kate. If you're
not careful, it can eat you up.
Are we in trouble?
No, of course not.
Then what?
Nothing.
I'm just sick of writing tooth
and nail for bread, that's all.
Hmm.
- Should've become a journalist.
- You hate the press.
- Or a lawyer.
- "The law is an ass."
A hairdresser, then,
in the Burlington Arcade.
Do you know what
An explorer,
paddling a canoe somewhere
in the wilds of Canada
in a pair
of buckskin breeches,
all on my own.
No nappies to change.
By the way, dear,
I-I saw the doctor today.
Not another...
little stranger.
Are you pleased?
Well, of course.
[laughs]
- Well, that's splendid.
- Yes.
I am a necromancer.
Behold.
[all gasping]
- And now...
- [gasping]
[man making
eerie whistling sounds]
[gasps]
[man hooting, cackling]
- [moaning]
- [chuckling] Charley.
Charley,
it's all right.
- I'm here.
- [gasps]
- [bell tolling]
- [hoofbeats on cobblestone]
[rapid footsteps]
Mistress Chickenstalker!
Mistress Chickenstalker, what
has happened to your pinnie?
You look as if you've
been caught in a cyclone.
That's much better.
Master Corporal Skittles, sir.
On your feet, sir!
[laughing]
Ah, Lucifer Box.
- Would you do me the honor?
- [laughing]
Good.
Ah, the Snodgering Blee.
We meet at last.
What's this?
You have forgotten
to wash behind your ear.
[laughing]
Cor!
Now you must be...
Don't... Don't tell me.
- [whispers] Who is that?
- Tara.
Tara. Of course.
- I see you've made a conquest.
- [chuckles]
What was that wonderful story
I overheard you telling
about fairy mounds
and the fire spirits?
Only a story my gran used to tell
us, sir, back home in Ireland.
She used to say
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"The Man Who Invented Christmas" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 May 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_man_who_invented_christmas_20798>.
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