Kerching!

Panto season is nearly upon us, oh no it isn't. Well it soon will be, that very British routine of men dressing as women, women dressing as boys and obscure soap stars headlining end of the pier spectaculars is just a throw of fairy dust away.

Pantomimes generally run from the beginning of December through to the end of January, although there are exceptions. I did hear of one group of actors who switched effortlessly from Jack and The Beanstalk to the Easter Passion, presumably leading to question from the front row as to why the man who climbed up a big green tree before the interval started the second act nailed to a big wooden cross. Panto has always struck me as street theatre brought indoors and indeed its origins are the combination of Italian "Commedia dell’ Arte, and the traditional British Music hall. What began in Italy during the early 16th century made its way across Europe, picking up tips from the French before the first English performance of "Commedia" took place in London in 1716.

Nowadays it's as British as our fish and chips (Jewish originally), our beer (Dutch) the Royal Family (German) and the Mini Cooper (designed by a Greek). The great thing about Panto is that like The Simpsons (but unlike Family Guy) it's aimed at Children but with a sprinkling of gags and references that most children under the age of 40 won't get. I mean where else these days can you go without fear of prosecution and see a woman play a boy who is the son of a man dressed as a woman attempting to win the heart of another girl who is in fact played by a girl. I'm surprised the Daily Mail hasn't complained that we are all going to hell in a handcart rather than enjoying the limitless possibilities that little scenario offers.

It is of course unique, outside of the world of cinema, to spend two hours laughing, shouting, crying and applauding a plot that is carried along and resolved without the need for exposition, inner dialogue, CGI or expensive effects. Whilst the whole show may sometimes seem as well rehearsed as an hour in Casey's Court there are rules that must be obeyed and the history of the artform respected, these include Good always entering from stage right and Evil from the left, this is not a political metaphor but a tradition going back beyond Commedia to the mystery plays of the 15th century. And if it was confusing enough having the principal boy played by a girl and the lead girl played by a girl then we have the Dame who is always played by the most senior male in the cast. For those who find the pursuit of one female by another over a two hour period vaguely erotic the sight of a Ronnie Barker, Roy Barrowclough or Les Dawson with heaving false breasts, wrinkled stockings and curlers acts as a natural antidote.

Commedia has died but Panto has survived, it has morphed over the years from a seasonal job for out of work actors, musical hall acts and pop stars (I once saw The Shadows in Panto) to a seasonal job for ex-soap stars, people from children's television and those actors whose faces are familiar from television commercials but whose names are a mystery. Which brings me to the little guy at the top of the page. I hope whoever came up with the idea of Churchill as the public face of an insurance company is on a royalty or commission basis when the dog makes a public appearance outside of his insurance selling role, why? Because Churchill is appearing in no less than 22 Pantomimes this year and I quite like the idea that somebody somewhere will be sat with a bank statement in their hands going "Oh, yes!"