“OH yes you will.”

“Oh no I won’t.”

“Oh yes……”

My friend Christine and I argued over whether or not I would attend the local panto.

“Come on Janice,” she attempted to entice me.

“It's good fun and you should support your local theatre.”

“Christine,” I said.

“You know I’ve never been a fan of pantos,” I pleaded my case.

“And never will be.”

“But…..” she said.

“No buts about it,” I continued.

“Why would anyone want to spend an evening watching gender-crossing actors parade up and down a stage shouting at the audience and looking like overdressed fools.”

“Well, I’ve got you a ticket now,” my good pal added.

“So you’re going.”

And that was the end of the discussion.

Face tripping me all day at the very thought of it, I finally arrived at the town hall and reluctantly sat among the audience of screaming children and impatient parents.

“Don’t be surprised if I disappear at half time,” I moaned at my pal.

“I might just head to the pub across the road.”

Christine laughed at my joke, but didn’t realise I was planning my escape route rather than endure three hours of humourless torture.

I was aware that I sounded rather Bah Humbug, but really couldn’t have cared less.

Music blared as the curtains pulled back to the glitz of Aladdin, and the kids were on the edge of their seats.

And so was I for different reasons.

A few minutes in and Aladdin bounded on stage and introduced himself to the audience and immediately Taylor (aged eight) asked: “Why is Aladdin a girl?”

He looked puzzled.

“I thought Aladdin was a boy," he said.

“Shhhsht,” I whispered as I didn’t really have an answer.

Then a minute later camethe whisper: “That’s definitely a girl.”

And I couldn’t disagree, what with Aladdin’s pony tail and long toned legs.

The next half hour was full of non-stop questions, mainly about the gender of each character.

“That’s a boy and it’s supposed to be a girl,” came the indignant comment.

“That’s Mrs Davidson our teacher. Why is she dressed like a man?”

So among the chaos of singing, laughing, crying (some kids were just too tired) and talking, I attempted to explain to the kids that panto was different and that boys played the part of a girl and vice-versa.

But the kids were confused. And no wonder.

A few chorus’s later and the, “He’s behind you,” bit started and I shook my head in despair.

“Seriously,” I shouted.

“If you can’t see the bloody big camel behind you, you must be blind.”

I was now starting to get into panto mode.

But not necessarily in a good way.

The manic singing continued in-between never ending corny and crass jokes, continual double entendres and sexual innuendo.

But I have to admit that scanning the hall, apart from a few stony faced anti-panto people like myself, the audience appeared to be having a great time.

Kids were clapping and singing along with the cast and mums and dads, grannies and grandpas were participating too.

Somehow, the fact that boys were playing girls’ roles and vice-versa now didn’t seem to matter to the kids as they had accepted the characters as they were.

And I thought, that’s typical of how kids have the ability to see past the outer image and accept what’s in front of them.

Gathering in the foyer with the tired but happy kids, some of the cast and organisers were available for a chat with their audience.

“Great show.”

“Very funny.”

“Loved it.”

The compliments were flying.

Chatting to one of the enthusiastic posh organisers of the show about the inaugural performance she was quick to add: “yes, well we are delighted with the production and just how funny it was.”

She barely stopped for breath: “And, or course there’s always uncertainty on the first night of any performance.”

We all nodded.

“But at least it went to plan with virtually no toothache.”

And I assumed she meant teething problems, but as she acted as though she had just premiered a Broadway production, I didn’t want to burst her bubble.

“So Janice, I hope you’ll be coming to next year’s production of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” she enthused.

I feigned a Hollywood smile and nodded.

But inside I muttered: “Oh no I won’t.”

But realistically. “Oh well…… I might be.”