Nothing says Christmas more than a model of a lonely workman sitting on scaffolding outside a house. Every December, this curious diorama appears beneath the artificial Christmas tree in the lobby of the building where I work. This being Singapore, it is accompanied by a dutiful yellow sign warning of electrocution.
Elsewhere, Christmas decorations across Singapore are more conventional: snowflakes, reindeer, jolly Santas and flashing illuminations everywhere, especially when they surround corporate sponsor logos. The season of goodwill is above all a commercial enterprise these days, with no opportunity for festive promotion going unmissed.
On Orchard Road, Singapore’s answer to Regent Street and Rodeo Drive, hundreds of outdoor speakers line the pavements, playing non-stop Christmas songs for almost eight weeks to strong-arm people into spending. It’s definitely no coincidence that sleigh bells sound like jingling sackfuls of cash. And while lyrics about snowmen and frosty winds might seem ludicrous when it’s swelteringly hot outside, it’s a cunning way to entice people into those lovely ice-cold air-conditioned malls.
Once inside, the music continues like gavage for the ears, while Father Christmases roam the labyrinthine corridors. There are even enough of them to merit a local union, apparently. According to this Straits Times article, ‘The Santa Claus Alliance Singapore brings together a group of Caucasian individuals who are keen to bring cheer as Father Christmas during the festive season’. But the founder of SCAS, Mr Metze, goes on to say that ‘it does not mean that if you’re Caucasian, you can automatically become Santa. That is not true.’ How many must he have turned down?
The article continues that ‘his father was in the military, so perhaps it is not surprising that Mr Metze’s favourite presents were a toy AK-47 rifle and a toy T-55 tank. But the most important gift is families coming together, he says.’ To pretend to kill each other.
But since only my wife and I are in Singapore, we joined countless other expats in restaurants for free-flow brunch on Christmas Day, resulting in scenes of similar carnage. Free-flow brunches are such a fixture of Singapore expat life that they should become the collective noun: ‘a brunch of expats’.
These brunches consist of unlimited top-ups of booze served alongside an extravagant self-serve buffet. Diners help themselves from platters of shellfish piled on mounds of ice, baskets full of breads and pastries, multiple roast meats with all the trimmings, bountiful cheese boards, before finally reaching a trolley loaded with desserts of such richness that there might as well be a defibrillator hanging alongside the serving tongs. And a dutiful yellow warning sign, of course.
All this is washed down with gallons of branded champagne. Any pretensions to matching wine and food are forgotten; when supply is unlimited, champagne suddenly goes with everything from roast beef to chocolate log. The most important thing is to get your moneys-worth, with glasses held almost permanently aloft to take advantage of passing top-ups.
But in almost every other way, December 25th is a normal day in Singapore. Shops are open, hawker centres are full of regular customers, workmen sit on scaffolding and services continue as usual. This year, DHL delivered a business document to me shortly before noon on Christmas Day. When I wished the driver Merry Christmas he had to think for a second before returning the greeting.
The more normal way to send festive greetings is via WhatsApp. A constant stream of animated images and emojis were sent to me throughout the day, with the inevitable commercial tie-ins. Baby Yoda proved the most popular this year: ‘A Merry Christmas I Wish You’.
Because after all, what feels Christmassy is ultimately personal - whether that’s Star Wars memes, champagne served with roast beef, Father Christmas brandishing an AK-47 to force back a brunch of Caucasian expats who believe they can automatically become Santa, or indeed that lonely workman sitting on scaffolding outside a house.