Once upon a time, in a land far, far away that was called England, there lived a young girl called Cinderella. Actually, her name wasn't Cinderella - I've made it up - it was in fact Tracy, but Tracy doesn't sound terribly panto-ish.
Anyway, Tracy (aka Cinderella) dreamt of the day when she could go on holiday to a place where the sun shone all day and where happy, smiling locals were forever happy and smiling.
Prince Charming
For no good reason, except that Cinderella always starts in this way, Cinderella found herself in a woods one day, where it just so happened, as these things do, that a hunt was taking place. Purely by chance, she encountered a handsome young tourism minister from a different land far, far away.
"My title is Prince Charming, but you can call me Carlos," he said.
"What are those two egg-shaped things on your head?" enquired Cinderella.
"Oh these? Why, they're my, erm, they're my magic sea-grass orbs."
"Your what!?"
"Magic sea-grass orbs. They are formed from the beautiful sea-grass meadows that surround the beautiful, velvety white beaches of my beautiful paradise island that I and fellow members of my government diligently preserve through a strict environmental policy that allows virgin beaches to be destroyed on average only once every six months."
"It does indeed sound magical, fine sir," replied Cinderella. "But are you sure they're not a deer's testicles?"
"Heavens no, my dear, in my land we look after all God's creatures as if they were our own children."
The Ugly Sisters
Cinderella was in a whirl as she raced home. Her head was full of beautiful images of this beautiful land that Prince Charming called My-orca. This was the land she had dreamt of. She had to tell her Two Ugly Sisters all about it. Unfortunately for Cinderella, Chantelle and Kylie had already heard about it. My-orca was a land, so they said, with a limitless supply of Class-A drugs, industrial quantities of cheap alcohol, ample opportunities for balcony sports and bedloads of Latino waiter sorts with extremely high testosterone levels. They said it was a paradise, an all-inclusive paradise. "You can get off your face all day, every day, for FREE."
This couldn't be the same land. Cinderella took herself off to her room and drifted into sleep, thinking of Prince Charming's magic orbs and wondering if she might one day get to feel their real magic.
Ebenezer Scrooge
In Cinderella's dream, she was asleep. She did not see the evil villain appear. Behind you! He's behind you! She felt his icy touch and screamed: "Count Dracula. You're not meant to be in a panto."
"Oh but I am," he salivated. "I'm running the pantomime. It's all mine. All mine. And now I'm going to suck every last euro from you. Money, money, money. All mine. All mine. Taxes, taxes, taxes. All mine."
"Stop! You're not Dracula. You're the King of My-orca. The land with beautiful velvety white beaches and magic sea-grass orbs. Prince Charming said so."
"Pah! Prince Charming. My great rival Carlos. Talking a load of balls as usual. Now just lie there quietly while I ingest your centimos."
"No, no, no, you're not Dracula, you're ... you're. Ebenezer Scrooge?" (Boo, hiss.)
"Ebenezer Bauzà, to be correct. All Christmas bonuses for public workers in My-orca are banned as part of ongoing austerity measures forced upon us by an incompetent socialist regime. Bah humbug!"
The Fairy Godmother
Cinderella woke with a jolt. What was that racket in her room? And who was this woman with huge, comedy fake breasts, a tight silver number and an elongated sex aid?
"Oh, so you've woken up then."
"Who are you?" retorted Cinderella. "And what are you doing in my bedroom. Are you a pervy?"
"Oh, thanks very much. Can't you see what I've got in my hand? A magic wand, batteries included. I'm your Fairy Godmother."
"You're a drag act."
"Artist, darling, artist. I've got a season sorted in Maga next year."
"Oh, Fairy Godmother, I have had such a nightmare. A horrid king won't pay his people, so poor Tiny Tomeu will have no Christmas this year. And my Ugly Sisters say that My-orca is not a land of dreams. Whatever should I do? I do so want to see Prince Charming, the velvety white beaches and his magic orbs."
"With my magic wand I can make My-orca anything you want. I just sprinkle a little stardust, get the karaoke machine out and transport you back to the innocent days of Dusty. 'Again I would wander where memories enfold me. There on the beautiful island of dreams. Far, far away on the island of dreams.' "
"That's a beautiful song, Fairy Godmother. Please wave your magic wand. But please also tell me. Prince Charming? Is he for real?"
Fairy Godmother (to audience): "Well, is he?"
"OH NO HE ISN'T."
(This "panto" first appeared in the "Majorca Daily Bulletin" on 1 December.)
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
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