This year, be on the lookout for Bad Santas

With the suit comes vast responsibility and it’s understandable that some Santas may fall short of expectations, writes Jack the Insider. Picture: istock

Reports are sketchy but it appears Santa was arrested at Bunnings in Frankston in Melbourne’s southeast on Thursday.

An excitable Instagram post that fell into my feed read, “Bro, my dad and his partner saw Santa get arrested at Bunnings.” The post was accompanied by a short video of a prostrate Santa being tended to by police. It appears Santa fronted Bunnings and became a bit of nuisance before police were summoned and had to pepper spray the bearded one.

Another witness said the Frankston Bunnings Santa was strolling the aisles of the homeware store “threatening staff and customers”.

Bad Santas are everywhere at this time of year. It’s the children I worry about. It’s a big step going from innocently musing, as I did when I was four, on the improbability of one man delivering toys to billions of children around the world house by house, to witnessing Santa being violently arrested.

Although I maintain a healthy Santa figure, I’ve never donned the suit, so I have no understanding of its eerie powers.

Suffice to say, with the suit comes vast responsibility and it’s understandable that some Santas may fall short of expectations.

One failed red suit and beard wearer was chosen to do the honours as our cricket club’s Santa. At first glance, he fitted the brief perfectly. A large rotund man with his own greying beard and protruding belly, he was Santa from central casting.

But there were signs the chosen Santa may not be all Christmas cheer and hearty ho-hos.

For a start he was a fast bowler (all right, medium pace) and as a breed they are known to be quick to anger.

The quick men are also known to imbibe the sponsor’s product in vast quantities and so it was with this Santa. To be fair, circumstances beyond his control contrived to create the impending disaster. The team he played with had wrapped up a victory in the early afternoon, leaving Santa to quench a sizeable thirst with the Green Demons.

Thus, when the hour came and a group of excited children gathered at the cricket club rooms, a heavily refreshed Santa appeared with his bag of toys. As reindeer are scarce in southeastern Australia in December, Santa was transported on the back of a trailer, pulled by an HQ Holden.

The car and trailer proceeded towards the pavilion and the group of excited young children. But as the sealed road ended and the unsealed section of the car park began, Santa was jolted into the air and landed on the roadside, laying motionless.

There were shrieks from parents and howls from children.

Those of us who knew the man were not worried. We’d seen him fall before and we would see him fall again. We understood that Santa was drunk and able to roll with the punches.

And so it was. The red suited one was unhurt from the fall and scrambled to his feet, raking gravel from his beard before making his way towards the children.

“Ho-ho f..king ho, kids,” he shouted, stumbling forward, keen to show that no harm had come to him.

Predictably, his greeting offered little comfort to the children and the parents became agitated at the thought of their innocent kids’ ears becoming stained with profanity uttered by their beloved hero.

Unsure of what to do next, Santa let out another obscenity-laden message of goodwill and Christmas bonhomie. As he remained unsteady on his feet, the executive of the club quickly convened and decided to remove Santa from proceedings. He was escorted into the rooms, where he changed and returned to the bar, replaced by a man wearing a red hat who handed out toys and apologies.

I presume those kids then, adults now in their 40s, are still trying to work through that episode with their therapists.

The following season, the cricket club looked elsewhere for Santa and found one perhaps even more suitable in terms of the physical requirements than his fast-bowling teammate.

This Santa, too, commenced his duties early in the day. As captain of a team that fielded just ten players, he decided to don the Santa suit. When the ninth wicket fell, he put the pads on and marched earnestly to the crease. No doubt due to the spirit of Christmas, no one from the opposition seemed to bother or mind that the unsuited captain had opened the batting earlier in the day, only to bat again as Santa.

Somewhere in someone’s dusty shed, a scorebook sits that can tell the tale. S. Claus batted at 11 and made two not out.

Later that evening, decorum and faith were restored when the mostly sober Santa with the red ink boomed out a hearty ho-ho-ho as the kids huddled around.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.