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My Name is Santa, I Live on the 2nd Floor

Poor ol' Nicky boy. Apparently things are all just getting a bit much in maniacally merrie olde England.

Santa enrollment at the Ministry of Fun is down by 50%. Santa grottoes in the greater London area are booked solid right out from December 10th. Parents and offspring gather grimly in the pre-dawn chaos outside Harrods, sprint through the store in a fierce competition to out-wit their fellows sufferers, and then wait in another queue - for several hours - before seeing the Jolly Bearded One for a few moments.

Whilst in the grotto, the kiddies must sit on a bench, not on the red-clad knee - just in case, we hear the worried whispers, just in case the police check missed something... you just never know, do you? - and while sitting on said bench, they are observed at all times by a video camera. No more frosted window panes at the North Pole. Apparently it makes everyone feel safer.

A Santa fundraising parade in Scotland has been cancelled and replaced with a static Santa and a very obvious unmarked police car after an incident 2 years ago where a gang of young people attacked the parade with rocks.

And when the poor, dispirited Klauses try to drown their sorrows in beer and brotherhood, what happens?

All the bad news may be getting to Santa. This week in Newtown, Wales, 30 Santas followed up a Santa race for charity with far too much ale at the local pub. It ended in a drunken brawl, quelled by police officers with batons and spray canisters. Five inebriated, disheveled Santas were cuffed and hauled off to jail." - from the nytimes.com website

Yes I think I'm ok, walked in to the reindeer again...

Posted by phreq at December 15, 2004 06:13 AM | TrackBack