Pantomime Time

Pantomime is one of those things that people either love or hate. I fall into the latter camp. I'm not averse to pantomime in its original grass-roots form, derived from ancient mid-winter mummery, in turn derived from the Roman feast of Saturnalia, a time when the tables of normality were subverted, with slaves being waited upon by their masters at heady feasts that could normally last for days. This glorious subversion cascaded through the ages, transformed and transmogrified into our own lampooning of politics and popular culture - which is why I would rather see Mother Goose at our local church hall, than the slick and sanitised Dick Whittington, starring Dame Edna, at the New Wimbledon Theatre.
In the days when pantomime was the realm of strolling players that were ever outside society, the pantomimic vehicle was a delightfully dark way of looking at the mores of the time. But the most popular entertainers are no ways 'outside', any more. Instead, they are hand in pocket with the politicians, the royalty and other famous people that they once effectively sent up. In short, celebrity-led panto just doesn't 'do it' for me. True panto is deliciously dark and sweetly subversive, affording a refreshing look at all of the 'rules', of driving a wedge into a society that is rotting in its own corrosive stasis. It is also gloriously entertaining, which is why I'll be going to the church hall...