"Bah Humbug," I hear you cry, but you could not be further from the truth.
This was not another of those
Depressed Rhodes moments, I was actually too busy laughing to see the inherent danger for Aladdin and his hapless sidekick Wishy Washy.
I love Christmas and I always have ever since all I wanted out of life was Santa to bring me a Total Car Racing set.
Presents, drink, food, Christmas telly, more drink, festive nuts and a wee snifter of something Irish
before pulling a cracker and bed – I love it all. Pantos, well there has to be an exception.
I hated them as a child and I have to say now, as a proud parent of two, the thought of buxom blokes in frocks, bratish stage school kids and the "oh err Mrs Miggins you've got a lovely pair. . . of magic beanstalks" humour makes my blood run cold.
So imagine my utter surprise when I spent three magical hours in the company of an amateur production of Aladdin last weekend and suddenly discovered the humble panto is a metaphor for my kind of Christmas all along.
Sadly for the hapless actors for all the wrong reasons. I suspected all was not well when the curtain lifted to reveal a set straight from Year Seven woodwork.
Abernazer arrived looking like a poor man's Ming The Merciless, all sneer and Freddie
Mercury moustache. Kids hissed, booed and then looked puzzled as the baddie ran for cover as the fire alarm sounded. After the offending waft of hairspray dissipated the show could begin.
Sadly it did so with the most tone-deaf cast
theatre has ever had the misfortune to entertain.
I'm no expert on such things but are the songs of Ricky Martin "She Bangs", Rhianna's "Umbrella" and, for the big love song, Kylie's "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" really panto fodder? Imagine my total lack of surprise when "Genie In A Bottle" blared out.
But the sight of an out-of-tune lass, high kicking her way through such lyrics as "I'll be your genie in the bottle. . . you can rub me the right way" while winking at the dads got me in uncontrollable fits of laughter.
I suddenly realised where all those cretinous X Factor failures end up. And for me that was totally in fitting with what Christmas is all about.
There are those who tell us
everything has to be just right at Christmas.
Codswallop – for me the perfect Christmas is being with family, laughing, not taking things too seriously in the company of those we love. So forget Nigella-style turkey, Jamie Oliver-brewed mulled wine and tea served from gold chargers – have a panto-like Christmas and a jolly good new year.
Oh yes, that and a drink or two and an inappropriate karaoke song about rubbing a genie!