It’s hard work, being a trope.
I’ve never done it like that before. I went to “Santa School” one time with The Ministry of Fun. That was maybe a decade ago, just before Christmas Carol kicked off. I was desperate at the time, but it didn’t gel. But today, it’s wasn’t the safety of a grotto. I didn’t have time to turn around and adjust my beard between punters. A steady stream of children, and for the first session, my beard was in my mouth. I had my manager occasionally showing up and pointing at my top lip but there was no hiding in that first two hours. It was fine but I wasn’t perfect. I started to really think about the responsibility on this particular job.
So yeah, two hours on, one hour off, two hours on. The first two hours went by in a haze. “Have you been good?” The parents and the children all definitely want to persuade Santa how good they’ve been. The horror comes from seeing the belief. As Father Christmas, I am an ancient thing. I care about how good you’ve been, but who makes the frame for good and bad? Maybe it’s Santa. Perhaps that’s why Santa has to ask, and weigh every answer in the balance. Is Santa Anubis? We all love dogs…
The second two hours I had a handle on it physically. Beard tape meant I could talk without it slipping. I assumed I would have a moment between people to recharge, but the momentum in the pudding is relentless. There’s no time. I choked on fluff at one point, right at the start. I almost choked to death suppressing a cough from a tiny blonde girl. All I wanted to do was hack my guts out to get that bit of fluff shifted. She just wanted the perfect Father Christmas. She got it even if I hustled her out pretty quickly and was almost sick thereafter.
Then I hit the groove. My newfound beard tape meant I wasn’t slipping, I could relax into this strange Christmas world of citizenship. By being out of society, Santa teaches society. Play the game and you will be rewarded, he says. What did he used to be? This is capitalist Christmas. I can talk to the parents. “I remember you, I haven’t seen you for many years.” That’s a great icebreaker for a shy child, to talk to the parent as the ancient infinite being. “What did I bring to you, that Christmas, when you were Milly’s age?” “um … a DVD?” Oh yes, a DVD. You loved it. Have you been good since? Milly has he been good? If you’re very good you might get another DVD… although I’m not sure they’re as good as they used to be… But I’m sure I’ll find something. Milly, would you like to make a Christmas wish?”
I asked a lot of children to make Christmas wishes. All I asked was that their wish was for someone other than themselves. Most of them managed. One or two of them just derailed the process – “Santa, I’m just going to say right now, I want a phone.”
It’s exhausting, vocally thrashing and energetically doubly so. I’m in my upper vocal register for hours, talking through a disguise. With the beard tape I can be much more free, and thankfully it it’s cold in the shopping mall. Every inch of fabric I’m wearing is synthetic. The only part of me that can breathe is a tiny bit of my face. After just two hours my whole body is water.
Still, this is well paid work. I ignored it when it first came in. I didn’t want to do it straight after Othello. Then just this weekend came up and they texted me, so I couldn’t ignore it. Still I ran it by Lou, as I didn’t want to do Santa right after RSC. She quite rightly pointed out how good the rate was, and that is doesn’t count as my last job, that can still be Othello. So I took the Christmas dollar. Ho Ho Ho. Just one more day. Good God I’m exhausted.
But this is my job today, and tomorrow. To wear one of the masks of god. Across the world right now, many of us are sharing this mask. In every instance we are perceived, we ARE the entity we pretend to be. And simultaneously we are just people in a mask. Because the Gods are splintered through us all now. So many of us, we all create an energy this season towards this benign but controlling entity. There’s chaos here. What if you haven’t been good?
This aspect of the God is tired. I’ll sleep now and tomorrow channel once more. Ho ho ho. The endless chimes and bells. Here now, the father of the Christmas, just reminding the children to think about people they love who aren’t them. Merry merry. Bedtime.
AlBarclay 