Didja ever wonder what it would be like to sit in Santa’s big chair and face hundreds of strange, possibly dangerous children daily, maintaining enough of a facade of geniality that the parents are still moderately happy to pay for the privilege of getting their kiddies’ picture taken with Santa? To be peed upon over and over again, to hear “I wanna iPod” over and over till one could strangle Steve Jobs with one’s gloved hands, to hold writhing, shrieking masses of life-force in your arms for adrenaline-pumping minutes at a time, lest they destroy expensive animatronic reindeer in the desperation of their heedless flight?

Wonder no more.

Colin Stevens, 44, film-maker
Hamleys, Regent Street, London

I am an alumnus of the Ministry of Fun Santa School in London. I can say ‘Happy Christmas’ in 12 languages. The first time I played Father Christmas, I thought, ‘So it’s come to this’ because I used to be a serious actor.

Wasn’t there a movie about this story? Or at least a Eugene O’Neill play?

Fred Holmes, 47, caretaker, Meadowcroft primary school
Painshill Park, Cobham, Surrey

I have been asked for a boiled egg, a Diet Coke, world peace and a live dinosaur… One girl told me all she wanted was to see her brother in pain. Sometimes you get lecherous mothers. A young mum once sat on my lap and asked if I would empty my sack on her bed. I think she’d been drinking. We once had a drunk elf who gave out the wrong presents, then fell into the lake.

Super bonus story: The Grinch is real, nabbed, and Bosnian.