In the frosty December of 1987, an eight-year-old boy embarked on a mission to prove the existence of Father Christmas once and for all. His weapon of choice? A trusty whoopee cushion. The plan was simple, yet he believed it foolproof. Decades later, the memory of how Santa Claus spectacularly outmanoeuvred him remains a vivid and unsettling festive tale.
The Festive Conspiracy
The scene was set on Christmas Eve, 1987. While geopolitical tensions simmered, twin siblings conspired in their bedroom in England's deep south. Inspired by his sister's earlier, failed attempt to contact God via a letter to her rabbit, the young Mike Wozniak set his sights on a more tangible target. With his sister's support, he devised a catch-and-release operation aimed at securing definitive proof of Santa's annual visit.
His toolkit was decidedly low-tech. The centrepiece was a robust, battle-tested whoopee cushion. The strategy involved placing it at the very bottom of the Christmas stocking, which would be hung from his top bunk bed. The logic was impeccable: the moment the first satsuma or gift plunged into the stocking, the resulting trumpet blast would wake him instantly. He would then be ready to capture the evidence.
A Camera and a Backup Trap
For photographic proof, Wozniak selected his bright red Fisher-Price View-Master. While not a functional camera, he was confident Santa's magic could imprint his image amongst the slides of global landmarks. Unbeknown to him in his complacent sleep, a secondary booby trap was also in play. He and his sister had balanced a Teddy Ruxpin toy, batteries included, atop their bedroom door as a backup alarm.
The night did not unfold as planned. He was not awakened by a comedic puff of air, but by a heavy thunk and a distinctly adult expletive—a word he had only heard once before, when his father had a mishap with a lawnmower. In the sudden commotion, he panicked. Had he broken the sacred Christmas contract by being awake? Would his presents be forfeit? Terrifying visions from Raiders of the Lost Ark flashed through his mind.
The Scent of Cigars and a Silent Escape
Eyes screwed tightly shut, he then heard the tell-tale rustle of a satsuma against wool at the foot of his bed. More curiously, he detected the faint aroma of Hamlet cigars—the same brand his father smoked. This puzzling detail suggested an unexpected connection between the two men. Choosing not to confront Santa about the health risks of smoking, given the pressures of his global delivery run, the boy lay perfectly still until he was sure the visitor had departed.
After an agonising five-minute wait, he triumphantly yelled, "He's been!" and scrambled from his bed. His victory was short-lived. As his foot met the top bunk's ladder, he felt and heard the whoopee cushion sing its sassy song beneath his own weight. Santa had not only avoided the trap but had expertly reset it for the trap-setter. The joke was firmly on the young investigator.
Recounting the event to his parents, his mother seemed unusually cross with Father Christmas for the dangerous placement of the cushion. Wozniak, however, was genuinely spooked. The encounter was less triumphant and more profoundly unsettling than he had imagined. As his sister fed a segment of satsuma to Teddy Ruxpin, she wisely suggested they cease meddling with supernatural beings. The mystery of the potty-mouthed, cigar-smoking Santa was left unresolved, a permanent fixture in the family's festive lore.
Mike Wozniak is on tour with his new show *The Bench* from 18 January to 12 November 2026.
