Santa’s right arm drew back, then delivered a powerful haymaker between Rudolph’s antlers. The festive pair, locked in sudden unseasonal animosity, tumbled onto the shiny, sleet-soaked sidewalk of East 33rd Street, close to Manhattan’s Greely Square Park. Moments before, they had been bell-ringing and “Ho-ho-ho-ing” for Christmas charity.
The casus belli, a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam Bourbon – since 1795 no less! – slipped from concealment under Santa’s black-straggled beard – and smashed in the gutter. New York passers-by parted, as a river round a rock, unconcerned.
Peace talks reached a rapid conclusion. Rocketman Reindeer and Dotard Santa clasped each other in mutual support, weaving unsteadily towards nearby Foley’s Irish Bar and Baseball Memorabilia Shrine, possibly in search of Mrs Claus.
Put me right in the mood, that did, for my own seasonal indulgence – a performance of Handel’s oratorio, Messiah. I was headed uptown, to Carnegie Hall, to listen to The Oratorio Society of New York perform probably the best-known George Frederic Handel work in the repertoire.
