This week I foolishly took up an offer to become ‘Santa’ in a small shopping
centre somewhere out in the wilds of county
Galway
The beard
partially blocked my nose, restricting my oxygen intake. The top of my head was
wedged into a tight wig, the fringe of which hung over my eyes, blocking my
vision. As my body temperature began to soar, I tried to drink from a bottle of
water only for the contents to spill down the beard; the mouth hole being too
small and blocked by tangles of white nylon.
Half blind and gasping for air and
water I was then led into the store. For a moment I was alone. To either side
of me were shelves stacked with tins of beans and soups and other daily fare.
Overhead hot lights glared down. Then Helper Elf cried out, ‘Merry Christmas!
Santa is here!’ Suddenly a throng of screaming miniature savages surrounded me.
Toddlers demanded X-boxes, girls burped bubble gum burps into my face as they
tried to tell me about their lists, boys grabbed at my beard causing the
elastic to cut deeper into my ears.
Above the hysteric shrieks of the children,
rose the roaring of the mammies and daddies as they shoved, kicked and punched
other children out of the way to ensure their little darling got right up to
Santa for a happy photograph. At some point the cushion was torn from my belly
and my big Santa pants fell down…
I barely
survived the two-hour ordeal. Other Santa impersonators are not so lucky. They
have to endure weeks of brutal inhumane treatment. So please, boys and girls,
if you see a big fat fellow dressed in red and looked dazed, give him a big hug
and wish him a Merry Christmas!
And of course you have to look after yourself: Here’s some articles that may be of interest:
Xmas Shopping! Is it Good for you or Bad for you?
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