Be nice to the elves on your visit to Santa's Grotto — they hold all the power

As Christmas approaches, Elf on the Shelf has superseded parents as the power in the land. But what about the elves in the grottoes, the ones who grease the wheels of your annual Santa visit? Former career elf David Kent has some advice on how to handle them

Santa and some of his elves in 2004. Even with the constant jokes from Olaf, the kids that didn’t really know what was going on, the overbearing heat from the grotto to welcome people in from the cold and hearing Last Christmas every 10 minutes, I still wouldn’t have swapped being an elf for the world. File picture

Mariah Carey has been defrosted, lights are up across the country on streets and in gardens and, if you listen quietly, you can hear the thousands of stressed ould fellas wondering if it’s too early to start the dinner.

It can mean only one thing: Christmas is here (seemingly earlier than ever) and with that comes Santa’s Magical Mystery Tour — his appearances around shops, villages and parades are always looked forward to by millions.

I’ve been lucky to have a first-hand look at the magic and know all of his secrets. How do I know? Because I’ve been in the trenches on the first line of defence, keeping rabid, excited children away from jolly St Nick as an elf.

Across a three-year span while I was in college, I donned the costumes firstly in an estate house and gardens and then one of the biggest department stores on the island. I dealt with screaming, crying and tantrums worthy of an Oscar — and that’s all from the parents.

I don’t think I’m breaking any news when I tell you: Santa Claus is a very popular fellow. You won’t get people queueing at 7am to reserve a spot to see the Easter Bunny unless they’re on a sugar rush. Naturally, this leads to disappointment when the slots are filled by 7.15am. 

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Each year, a litany of most unfestive language was fired in our general direction, including from one angry mother who threatened to "stuff me like a turkey" with a nearby ornament — and they weren’t jingle bells.

Then you had the people who would take their kids to “the other Santa” across the street — often in earshot of their kid — as if that would lead to a place magically appearing in the queue. Thankfully, I had back-up in my fellow elves, who weren’t in any mood for festive joy whenever confronted in that manner.

Over my time pretending to have pixie ears, I worked with, among others: A Defence Forces veteran, a make-up artist, a couple of Leaving Cert students, a girl that has gone on to have a single reach the Irish charts and, naturally, a chunk of people who have emigrated. Sadly, not even as much hot chocolate, cookies and Quality Street as you can eat is enough to pay the rent in Dublin these days.

Compared to the parents who didn’t quite understand how this was supposed to go, the majority of children were absolute angels — on their best behaviour in front of Santa and his spies. In fairness, they aren't aware he’s in major breach of GDPR rules by seeing them while sleeping and knowing when they’re awake.

Not that it was all plain sailing with the tots.

There was one hairy moment where a child who had been in with his parents rocked up a couple of days later with his cousins — and clocked that I was a completely different elf, having donned the costume of Elf Sprinkles for the day.

J'accuse, “your name is Buttons!” 

In what was probably the quickest I’ve thought in my entire life, I managed to convince him that my twin, Elf Buttons, was on the other side of the grotto.

He still seemed wary, so I fully expect to see him behind a desk in a garda station as a detective inspector in a few years' time. Hopefully, I’m off his ‘wanted’ list for fraud/impersonation by then.

David Kent: "Compared to the parents who didn’t quite understand how this was supposed to go, the majority of children were absolute angels." Picture: Moya Nolan

I have also had every scene from both Arthur Christmas and Frozen burned into my mind due to their playing on repeat in one of the grottos in order to keep the kids entertained before they got to meet the big man.

This, at least, allows me to empathise with anyone who had a toddler in the early 2010s. My suggestion to swap one of them out for Die Hard did not get very far.

But even with the constant jokes from Olaf, the kids that didn’t really know what was going on, the overbearing heat from the grotto to welcome people in from the cold and hearing Last Christmas every 10 minutes, I still wouldn’t have swapped it for the world.

I leave you with one piece of advice, dear reader.

If you are about to flip your biscuits at an elf at a grotto this Christmas, then remember three words. They’re the same three words I repeated ad nauseum to any misbehaviours in a grotto.

Santa is watching.