It’s nearly Christmas. It’s so nearly Christmas that the pressure is on. By law there is a partridge in every pear tree, the lengths of tinsel to wall ratio cannot be off by an inch and you better not sing out of tune. City districts have been cordoned off for Christmas celebrations, the Police are checking everyone’s Christmas licenses and Cheer is being dealt on every street corner. This is Christmas. In an attempt to capitalize even more on the country in a time of low morale, the government brought Christmas, hard. The elite celebrate the festive season, purchasing extortionately priced Christmas licenses from the state. The poor aren’t so fortunate, resorting to the synthetically produced ?Cheer’, a black market substance dealt in pill form – simulating all of the warm, fuzzy feelings of the festive season. In an abandoned Christmas workshop, two people sit, hurriedly making fake Christmas licenses in the run up to Christmas Day, selling them to those who can just about afford one and trading other contraband or useful skills with those who can’t. The pair try and claw their way out of poverty, exploiting those at the bottom and the top whilst morally struggling with what they have to do to survive in this world obsessed with Christmas. But is it safe? What would happen if they were caught? And all this talk of Cheer? Would it just be easier to slip into oblivion?