Family Fortunes: ‘The First Noel’ finished on a mighty roar and every dog began to howl

We went carol singing but our lamps and our voices were well and truly quenched

On song: do you know that pause after a terrific performance when you hold your breath for a couple of seconds waiting for the applause? Photograph:  Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images
On song: do you know that pause after a terrific performance when you hold your breath for a couple of seconds waiting for the applause? Photograph: Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images

Snow fell Christmas week and it was perfect for carolling. A bunch of us got together and decided to do our bit for charity. We rehearsed the few carols we knew and, in the interest of authenticity, we borrowed some obsolete oil lanterns from the corporation. Everyone wore Roches Stores’ red fluffy hats and scarves.

Oh, but it was so cold.

A-one, a-two, a-one-two-three. Our self-appointed conductor counted and we tried to join in unison but somehow Angels We Have Heard on High didn't sound quite right. And when it came to the chorus "Glooooria" – it was all over the place and totally out of sync. Silent Night was, in a word, painful. We were so cold we could hardly mouth the words. The First Noel was the final carol in our repertoire. We finished on a mighty roar and every dog in the neighbourhood began to howl.

Do you know that pause after a terrific performance when you hold your breath for a couple of seconds waiting for the applause? We were just at that point when a man bounded down the steps of a house and vaulted over the garden wall. Someone said, “Oh look, a lord a-leaping”, which was picked up immediately: “Eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying…”

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The man came straight towards us and began to shout hysterically: “Get out! Get out of here, ye bunch of crows! My wife’s gone out and I just got that cranky baby to sleep!”

Astonishment

We stood there, mouths wide open in astonishment.

“If you don’t go away this minute, I’ll call the guards and have the lot of you locked up for disturbing the peace!” he flung at us over his shoulder as he bounded, Basil Fawlty-like, up the steps back into his house and snapped the door shut.

What was that he called us? A pack of crows? Well, we were stunned and totally demoralised. Then our lanterns began to puff out vile-smelling black smoke and had to be quenched. Everyone sighed and shrugged. Upholding the ancient tradition was a bit beyond us after that. Our lamps and our voices were well and truly quenched. So we headed for the nearest hostelry for something hot and spicy to bolster up our courage for our next performance.