Christmas Pan-to

“It smacks…” The Saucepan began, swinging slightly on her hook, “It smacks a little of trying too hard, don’t you think?”
“Wossat?” Asked a Frying Pan, dozing by her side, in the weak sunshine filtering through the shop window.
“It’th Gristmas Degorashuns the’s goin’ on aboug again” A Kettle advised.
“It is indeed!” The Saucepan agreed, “I, for example, have baubles hanging from me.  I did not have baubles last week and I very much doubt I will have baubles again in a few weeks’ time.  How, one wonders, are they supposed to enhance my, already considerable, sales potential?”
“It’s Christmas innit?” The Frying Pan explained, “It’s yer Festive Season, yer’ve got to ‘ave a touch of the old bauble, bangles…”
“Ang gright, thiny beags” The Kettle completed, with a chuckle.
“Why can’t he speak properly?”  The Saucepan whispered.
“Don’t say it too loud, only he’s got a sprig of holly shoved up his spout, poor bugger” The Frying Pan said, with some sympathy.
“Well, this is exactly what I’m talking about!” The Saucepan exclaimed, swinging again with the sheer emotion of it all, “It’s just so unnecessary”
“You’re tellig me” The Kettle replied, with feeling.
“I fink it adds a bit of wossname, seasonal jollity” The Frying Pan said, angling himself a little more to catch the dying rays.
“Seasonal jollity?” The Saucepan sniffed, as only a saucepan can, “what, pray tell, is remotely seasonal about us?”
“Oh, I dunno” The Frying Pan thought for a moment, “How about a Boxing Day fry-up, bubble and squeak style of thing, I’m yer man for that”
“Grismas Mornig cub of dee” The Kettle said, emphatically.
“Yes, of course, we all have a part to play in the daily round, no-one is denying that, but there’s nothing inherently seasonal about our function, is there?” The Saucepan’s swing had become quite pronounced.
“Alright, alright, keep yer lid on” The Frying Pan advised, “Just simmer”
“I hope to, one day, when I’m eventually called to service” The Saucepan said, proudly, with a catch in her voice.
“Ith the alright?” The Kettle asked.
“She gets worked up, yer know ‘ow she is” The Frying Pan whispered, “Comes to the boil and then stews over stuff fer ages.  It’s ‘ow she’s made, she can’t ‘elp it”
“It’th the thame wig me” The Kettle nodded, “bug once I’ve goiled up, that’th it”
“What I’m trying to say, is that no-one is likely to buy, for the sake of argument, a saucepan, just because I’m sporting baubles and it’s Christmas!  You either need a saucepan, or you don’t!”
“’Don’t’ being the way it’s been for months, innit?” They Frying Pan pointed out, not unsympathetically.
“There’s no need to go on about it” The Saucepan choked back a sob, “My time will come, I’m sure of it”
“I’m not bein’ wossname, sounds like summat you get on yer feet?” The Frying Pan mused.
“You hagen’t gog feeg” The Kettle pointed out.
“I know, I know” The Frying Pan snapped, “Callous, that’s the kiddy, I’m not bein’ callous but we’ve gotta face facts, we’ve been stuck in this window for months and not a sausage”
“Ligerally, in your gase” The Kettle chuckled.
“Werl,” The Frying Pan spat, “it’s all bloody Air Fryers these days, innit?  What’s all that about when it’s at ‘ome, eh?”
“I have no knowledge of them.  I suspect that, like the sandwich toasters of yore, they will be a five-minute wonder” The Saucepan said, tersely, “Speaking of which, I haven’t heard anything from the Sandwich Toaster lately, have you?”
“Yer wouldn’t” The Frying Pan sighed, “’E’s got a gob full of tinsel ‘asn’t ‘e, ‘E ‘asn’t said a word sine the end of November”
“Beople always neeg keggles” The Kettle said, proudly.
“Microwaves!” The Saucepan snapped.
“Pargon?”
“Microwave Ovens” The Saucepan explained, “No need for a kettle, you just put your drink in one of them…”
“…bang the door shut, set the timer thingy and bob’s yer wossname.  Hot drink, ready to go and no ‘anging around waitin’ for you to decide to boil, or not” The Frying Pan completed, with a broad grin.
“Ig’s nog the thame!” The Kettle said, firmly.
“Try tellin’ that to the kids these days.  They ain’t got the patience to wait for the likes of you.  Same thing with Air Fryers innit, they can roast a turkey in two minutes flat and no mess, neither.  Then, there’s me, a good sausage can take five minutes or so and yer wind up with ‘alf of it stuck to me base!  ‘Scuse my language” The Frying Pan looked sideways at the Saucepan.
“I do sympathise” The Saucepan said, “Things sticking to one, even when one has the most up-to-date non-stick surface, can be most embarrassing”
“’Ow do they geg a non-thtick thurface to thtick?” The Kettle asked, reasonably.
“Beats me!” The Frying Pan shrugged, sending his tinsel askew.
“I suppose I hoped” The Saucepan began, shyly, “to be part of a set, one day.  Perhaps have a little saucepan of my own, if you know what I mean?”
“Set is it?” The Frying Pan nodded, “Werl, yerse, I can see as ‘ow that’d suit yer.  Not for me, ‘course.  Yer never ‘ear of a set of frying pans now, do yer?”
“Nor me” The Kettle contributed.
“Well, no, ‘course not” Yer kettle’s very much a solitary animal, innit?”
“I just despair of anyone ever taking us home” The Saucepan said, sadly.
“’Ere now, dunner get like that” The Frying Pan admonished, “Look, yer’ve dropped a bauble now!  All yer’ve gotta do is ‘ope for Christmas Eve, when some panickin’ Charlie, with a drink or two inside ‘im and no idea what to buy the wife, comes past ‘ere…”
“Finks, I know wod to geg ‘er, I’ll geg ‘er a nithe…”
“Frying Pan?” The Saucepan suggested.
“Could be, could be” The Frying Pan agreed, “be ‘bout my luck that, ‘course yer know who’d finish up on Christmas Morning wiv a dent in ‘is base ‘cause of where I’ve come into contact wiv ‘is skull, innit?”
“Perhaps there is something to be said for being in a nice, safe window display, after all?”  The Saucepan ventured.
“Egen wig ‘olly ub yer spoug!” The Kettle suggested.
“Indeed” The Saucepan looked down at her dropped bauble, and sighed, "or a bauble bouncing off your lid!"

You can find a lot more of my Christmas stories in 'A Christmas Cracker'