Hack defies Armageddon disguised as carol singer

Actually I am a carol singer, a regular member of the Bugarach village choir Deux Pics En Choeur.

It’s our job to get on with the usual Christmas gig, while all about us the world isn’t ending yet. Small Apocalypse, not many dead, though it’s rare that I have fight my way up the hill to the village past four Gendarmerie vans. That’s usually a year’s worth, hippy drugs busts included.

The powers that be have posted lots of official documents with reams of small print citing every French law since Napoleon decreed that no-one was to end the world without his say-so. Presumably this means a Total Exclusion Zone around the village until the crisis is resolved one way or the other.

On the map, said TEZ looks just like a giant rabbit. Spooky, eh? Possible references include the Wicker Man, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Harvey the Pookah or the fact the main drag out of the village up Col du Linas looks a bit like the ear of a big bunny.

The choice is yours, though I ought to point out that the Holy Grail is big business around here in between Armageddons. In fact the choir’s name, which vaguely translates as Choir of the Two Peaks, refers to both our magic mountains. The other is called Mont Cardou and Jesus Christ is buried under it. Allegedly . . .

Unlike Bugarach, Cardou has all its rocks the right way up, but if you can conceal a body under it, you’re a better man than I am. Presumably, if someone starts a Second Coming Prophecy, then Mont Cardou will also have its 15 minutes of fame.

I am surprised to discover that the gig is in the foyer or village hall instead of the church. This may be due to the EOTW crisis, or that we’ve been having a bit of a stand-off with one of the local curés (French vicar) on the grounds that he doesn’t think gospel music and Catalan Christmas carols sound religious enough. Or it maybe because the foyer has central heating.

A few stray journalists wielding long lenses come in to escape the cold and general lack of apocalyptic activity outside – our End of the World première. Realising that we really are going to sing, they leg it quick. Bastards.

That’s odd really, given that the choir is led by Valerie Austin, longstanding residente anglaise de Bugarach, and veteran of an exponentially-increasing number of British press interviews.

We haven’t had a lot of luck fame-wise. We were supposed to be in a French TV documentary about ordinary people being ordinary while all about them the world wasn’t ending. At the last minute the producer told us they couldn’t get copyright clearance on our theme tune. Of course it may have been his way of telling us that the musical director had unfortunately noticed our sopranos’ unique ability to reach the end of any song a whole tone flat.

It’s a shame the hacks dipped out on us. They missed Monsieur le Maire de Bugarach, Jean-Pierre Delord, telling everyone what a bunch of twats they were. On the other hand, he praised us singers for so warm-heartedly bringing seasonal cheer to the village old ducks, without shoving a camera up anybody’s nose.

I’m a bit pissed off that the Mairie contrived to organise the gig the day before the Total Exclusion Zone comes into force (Wed 19 Dec). I was all set to relate how I ran the gauntlet of gendarmes and troops, just to bring the last chorus of Gloria in Excelsis to 50 beleaguered pensioners. Still, it’s not the end of the world.