The Escort

At the beginning of every day, at lunchtime and at closing, Santa is escorted through the shopping centre. 


This must always be done by one, but preferably two elves, standing on either side ready to defend to the death. There is not usually a fear of death, but one can never be too careful. This is Santa we're talking about.


I like to imagine the escort to the tune of 'The Show Must Go On'. Actually I like to imagine my entire elf preparation to this song: starting as I slowly put on my make up and sombrely place my jingle bell hat on my head. 


Escorting Santa is fun. It commands respect. I may be in a suit akin to garish pyjamas, but I am with Santa, and everyone loves Santa. Everyone. Adults greet him with a formal, 'Hello Santa'. Middle aged women who work in shops tend to hug him. Children are enthralled and even teenagers are silenced by the greatness of the man that is before them. If they do say anything it is usually only a weak variation on 'I've been good this year, what will you bring me?' - not exactly the put down of the century. The one that asked for Justin Bieber and/or Peter Andre was admittedly entertaining. 


But I digress. I enjoy being Santa's bodyguard, and that's all I've got to say about that.