Hot on the heels of news that Selfridges in London had opened its Christmas store came the report that an over-enthusiastic landlord in Kent had put up a Christmas tree in his pub. Four months early.
A spokesman for the Harvester chain said: “It looks like our local manager got into the spirit a little too soon.”
Let’s hope the spirit doesn’t catch on around here and landlords start playing Johnny Mathis and Slade.
There was also notification that the Government’s DirectGov website had a sleigh-full of jobs for Santas at shopping centre grottos around Britain come December. Which is hardly an earth shattering development for the long-term unemployed.
“Great Grottos are looking for gentlemen with a jolly demeanour to play the part of Father Christmas.”
That’s me out of the running, then. I gave up jolly years ago.
“Assisted by a team of Elves, you will be responsible for creating memorable visits by talking to children in one our magical grottos. You will hand out our amazing presents whilst also posing for photographs wearing one of our excellent hand-made costumes.
“Experience is not essential as full training is provided where you will be assisted with clever techniques and smart dialogue to support you.”
Now there I can help. A backstage role as a scriptwriter perhaps?
Why does Santa have three gardens?
So he can Ho! Ho! Ho!
Well how about this one. Who looks after Santa when he’s poorly?
The National Elf Service, of course.
I would be a whizz at the job except that I have a First Class Honours Degree in being a Grumpy Old Man. Miserable is compulsory.
Now if a company ever needs a Scrooge, instead of a Santa, the job’s mine.
