The Twelve Days of Dalekmas
The Twelve Days of Dalekmas
A Ballykillduff Christmas Extravaganza
by GT Wilson
Prologue: “We Are Here to Facilitate Merriment”
It began, as most calamities in Ballykillduff do, with a strange humming noise over Bridget McGillicuddy’s goose pen. The villagers, who had only just finished decorating the square with fairy lights, looked up to see a glowing brass saucer wobbling like a drunken bauble.
It crashed squarely into the roof of Father O’Hanlon’s shed.
A hatch hissed. A metallic voice echoed across the frosty air.
“Attention humanoids! We have studied your holiday. We shall commence Christmas.”
There was a pause.
“Incorrect term. We shall commence Dalekmas.”
The Ballykillduff Band, which consisted of a concertina, a dented tuba, and a drum borrowed from the school, struck up O Come All Ye Faithful out of sheer panic. The Daleks, misinterpreting this as applause, decided to stay.
Day One: A Partridge in a Power Pod
On the first day of Dalekmas, one golden Dalek presented Old Seamus Fitzgerald with “a partridge in a power pod.” It turned out to be a small, terrified bird sealed inside a glowing metal sphere.
“It is self-heating,” said the Dalek proudly.
“It’s self-boiling!” yelled Bridget, prying the poor creature free with a spatula.
The partridge, now slightly singed, took refuge in the church’s Christmas tree and refused to come down for a week.
Day Two: Two Turtle Drones
The next morning, two small Dalek drones hovered through the village, announcing they were “Turtle Doves, improved.” They were painted green, flapped tin wings, and kept colliding with each other.
Children followed them giggling until one accidentally flew into Jimmy McGroggan’s mulled wine vat, where it began singing distorted carols.
“Pa-ra-pum, zap, pum, zap!”
Jimmy declared it the best entertainment since the céilí incident.
Day Three: Three Hens of Destruction
On the third day, three “French hens” arrived. They were clockwork contraptions that clucked “Exterminate!” every other beat.
The hens escaped, attacked the nativity scene, and roasted themselves on the spotlights.
Father O’Hanlon called it “a Christmas miracle of sorts.”
Day Four: Four Calling Daleks
Four Daleks rolled door to door with megaphones shouting, “Hello! Merry Dalekmas! Respond or be greeted!”
Half the villagers fainted. The other half invited them in for tea.
By the end of the day, all four Daleks were stuck in narrow kitchens, confused by kettles and doilies.
“Why does your liquid dispenser whistle angrily?” asked one.
“That’s the kettle, love,” said Bridget. “It means it’s ready.”
“It is hostile. Exter… no, wait. Celebrate!”
Day Five: Five Golden Rings of Fire
To mark the fifth day, the Daleks lit up the night sky with five golden plasma rings that were visible as far as Tullow.
Unfortunately, one ring vaporised Councillor McGroggin’s prize snowman. He tried to lodge a complaint until the Daleks awarded him an “Efficiency Medal.”
He pinned it to his scarf and went home beaming.
Day Six: Six Geese A-Hovering
Six Daleks arrived bearing “mechanised geese prototypes.” They flapped with the grace of lead balloons and promptly crash-landed in the pub car park.
The villagers ate one for research. It tasted faintly of copper and despair.
Day Seven: Seven Swans Insulating
“Insulating” was the word the Daleks used for “freezing solid.” The swans were, in fact, seven snow-sculpted drones encased in ice, arranged artistically around the pond.
When the Christmas lights reflected on them, they looked quite beautiful, until one melted and short-circuited the rest.
Day Eight: Eight Maids a-Vaporising
This was a misunderstanding. The Daleks, having studied human labour, built eight robot milkmaids. Each carried a bucket full of custard and a laser attachment.
Their milking technique proved fatal to several buckets and one unfortunate bicycle. Children chased them with marshmallows until their circuits fried.
Day Nine: Nine Ladies Upgrading
By now the Ballykillduff women’s knitting circle had had enough. They invited the Daleks to tea and secretly reprogrammed one to knit.
That evening, nine Daleks rolled proudly through the square wearing hand-knitted woollen hats and scarves that glowed festively.
“We are cosy,” said one. “We do not understand why.”
Day Ten: Ten Lords a-Leaping for Cover
Ten Daleks burst into the parish hall shouting, “We have constructed nobility forms!”
They presented ten cardboard effigies of “lords” that exploded confetti every five minutes. Father O’Hanlon dived under the table mid-sermon.
Councillor McGroggin claimed one as “official art” and placed it in his office.
Day Eleven: Eleven Pipers Blasting
In a grand display, eleven Daleks assembled a “musical detonation ensemble.” The result was deafening bagpipes powered by plasma bursts.
The sound shattered every window in the McGillicuddy cottage but, on the plus side, it also defrosted the entire village in one go.
“We have brought warmth,” said the lead Dalek.
“Aye,” said Bridget, holding a broom, “and no windows left to keep it in.”
Day Twelve: Twelve Drummers Drumming and One Small Explosion
The final day of Dalekmas arrived. The Daleks decided to perform the entire carol in one grand finale.
Twelve Daleks appeared in the square, each with a massive drum strapped to their domes. They began drumming in perfect unison until Jimmy McGroggan plugged his accordion into their power source “for accompaniment.”
There was a bang, a flash, and twelve Daleks were catapulted skyward like metallic fireworks, singing one last garbled note of cheer.
“Have a very efficient… zzzzt… Dalekmas!”
Epilogue: Peace on What’s Left of Earth
When the smoke cleared, Ballykillduff stood in stunned silence. Snow began to fall again, gentle, sparkling, and faintly smelling of ozone.
The partridge returned to its tree. The knitting circle hung Dalek hats on the branches. Jimmy raised his mug.
“To Dalekmas!” he cheered. “May it never, ever happen again!”
From the distant stars came a faint metallic echo.
“We shall return… next Christmas.”
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 