What a torrid weekend I had. I got a call from my agent Bernie Shimshelwitz last week telling me he’d landed me a sweet little acting job for the festive season. Chief elf in Santa’s grotto in BHS Thurrock wasn’t as high profile as I would’ve liked but a job’s a job and I’ll be honest if I’m ever going to be able to afford the ‘race & chase’ Scalextric that my dear old Nan wants for Christmas I’ll need every penny I can lay my hands on. I was due to start on Saturday so to celebrate being back in the game I decided to take Bernie out on Friday night for the all you can eat Indian buffet down at Balti Towers. I don’t know what happened but I’m guessing I must’ve downed a moody bhuna because my stomach was all over the place when I clocked into Santa’s grotto on Saturday morning. 80 screaming kids, a tight elf costume and a rancid gut is certainly an unholy trinity and unfortunately things took a turn for the worse 10 minutes in. I’d just sat a little lad named Clive on Santa’s knee, he wanted a Nitendo Wii for Christmas what he got was something very different. Without warning I let out a mighty, rasping guff; the odour of which was so unforgivable that I instantly vomited all over the back of Santa’s noggin. The smell of chunder set off a chain reaction of gagging and bawking throughout Santa’s grotto, the sight of Santa picking chunks of turkey bhuna out of his beard was too much for little Clive who had wet his pants in confusion and fear, not quite the wee he had expected. I took the rest of the day off.
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