As a mere fresher, I was – to be disgustingly earnest – very proud to secure a role as Narrator One in the currently-playing CUADC / Footlights pantomime extravaganza, Jack and the Beanstalk. The ADC Bridgemas panto is a treasured annual recurrence, and I dare to claim our production very much lives up to the hype.

However, from gloating about it to fellow first years, I have become acutely aware that younger folk can be less enthused about traditions of seasonal pantomime. YouGov reported in 2022 that just a third of 18-24 year olds enjoy panto, trailing behind the 25+ group by about 12 percentage points.

“Younger folk can be less enthused about traditions of seasonal pantomime”

It would be all too easy to write them off as unfledged, uncultured infants: “You don’t like panto? And I suppose you hate fun as well? I guess we’ll have to just throw away a hundred-odd years of Christmas cheer because Ebeneezer over here feels cringe.”

However – and perhaps I am too generous – I will endeavour to change their minds, for the greater good. Panto needs their support to thrive into the future. If you’re a young person who doesn’t ‘get it,’ I present to you three arguments on why we keep doing pantomime and why it ought to stay that way.

Firstly, panto makes theatre a pillar of community. 400 years ago, attending theatre was like going to Revs. Everyone pre-drank at the pub, rowdily filed into a crowd on the floor, and pulled faces at the provided entertainment. It was popular; it was cheap. Today, it’s often a rare affair, afforded primarily by devoted thespians and people who own Chesterfield coats.

Yet, no one sees panto in this way. Its accessibility keeps theatre relevant in the public domain. Don’t underestimate the significance of this: many smaller shows depend on taxpayer funds. Not to mention that its style welcomes and caters to younger viewers – a growing rarity in all media – helping them to discover their artistic side. By reaching out to otherwise disengaged fringes of the British public, panto may be fundamental to securing a diverse next generation of great creatives.

And where else will a four-year-old girl in an Elsa dress come together with a ninety-four-year-old bloke sporting a hearing aid? Not just in proximity, but in ritual? In a Britain that is increasingly factional and divided (and not just between schoolchildren and geriatrics, although fights between these groups can get pretty nasty) our agreement to collectively shout ‘boo’ at something is beautiful. We ought not to undermine the sacred space that gifts us common ground.

Secondly, panto is a direly needed antithesis to ‘cool culture’. Social media pressures young people into ‘coolness’ like never before. I can vouch for the temptation one feels after a lonely, late-night Instagram scroll. “Oh, I really should live life in a more brandable manner! What if my followers think me insufficiently nonchalant?”

Up-and-coming comedians now gain popularity on TikTok. With video-sharing, jokes can survive well-beyond, say, the listeners gathered in a bar. This raises the stakes and inclines comedians to wear a ‘cool’ veneer. When we look at popular styles on and off-screen now: abrasive sarcasm is ‘in’, post-irony and deadpan dominate too – for these modes are more difficult to scrutinise, and punching-down parody sketches are abundant. Frankly, I think it’s a bit cowardly.

Panto sends this all up by being unashamedly silly. Its potency lies in how, by relinquishing self-seriousness, the whole audience is liberated to let down their guard too. Bring back the cheesy setup and punchline! Bring back ridiculous costumes! Bring back the belting of contemporary pop songs jukebox-style in fantastically contrived moments of the plot! This will encourage swathes of creativity otherwise beaten down by self-conscious forces of trend.

My final – and perhaps subtlest – proposition is that panto offers a glimmer of hope for shows desiring to have some kind of a lifetime. There’s under-celebrated value in a yearly reminder for the industry that audiences aren’t allergic to familiarity. Data tells us that new writing is frequently produced throughout the country, but in short runs – never to be professionally revived.

Producers and programmers seem to think, “Well, they’ve enjoyed it once, so they can never enjoy it again. It’s best that we discard this labour of love, time, and great expense before anyone realises it exists.”

“These attention-grabbing titles signal that theatre thrives on nostalgia”

But revenue is disproportionately generated by lengthy showings of beloved tales; Grimm-revamp pantomimes, twentieth-century musicals, and iconic plays like Christie’s The Mousetrap or Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest.

By sticking around, these attention-grabbing titles signal that theatre thrives on nostalgia, and it might even be worth the risk to play newer pieces beyond a blink-and-miss-it reception. Only through those concessions can we hope for any modern writing to one day emerge as a well-trodden classic.

To conclude, I’d think it a dame shame if you don’t cough up the beans to see your local giant-hearted pantomime musical this Bridgemas (wink wink, nudge nudge, tickets now on sale). Because even if our puns don’t make you chuckle, heed my warning: we need panto, boys and girls. Oh yes we do!