Five weird Christmas myths: The naughty, the nice and the just plain nutso of festive folklore
Welcome to LOST IN FOLKLORE, where I take a lighthearted look at elements of folk stories, fairy tales, myths and monsters. If you’ve arrived here by accident and want to unsubscribe, please do. It helps make sure everyone on this quest wants to be here.
Oh, I did mention it’s a quest, right? Umm…forget I said anything.
Just watch out for the massive cat.
The Krampus
Half-goat, half-demon (difficult to know which half to hope for) The Krampus’ main aim in life is to arrive around Christmas and punish children who have been bad. Thought to have originated in Germany, the name might derive from Krampen, the German word for claw. So far, so harrowing.
It won’t surprise anyone who has clapped eyes on this chap to hear that he is said to be the son of Hel, the Norse goddess of the underworld, and may have sprung from pagan rituals, reminding us that there was actually quite a bit going on in this winter festival period before Bailey’s and baby Jesus got in on the act.
Legend has it that both St Nicholas and Krampus arrive on December 5th, and that St Nick goes around rewarding the good kids, while old Krampus takes care of the bad by walloping them with sticks, eating them or sending them to hell.
And yet somehow that still beats aggressively-drunken Boggle with Great-Aunt Brenda.
Yule Lads
And now to the Yule Lads. No, not the guys in the Christmas jumpers vomiting up their Jägerbomb after going too hard at the Christmas karaoke.
These Yule lads are a group of 13 brothers from Icelandic folklore. And by the look of them they’re really more the real ale type.
Sons of the ogre Grýla, the story goes that the Yule Lads appear one by one in the 13 days leading up to Christmas, leaving small gifts in shoes that children have placed on window sills, or, if the kid is on the naughty list, leaving a potato. (The horror! Unless it’s a potato waffle? Probably not.)
First mentioned in the 17th-century Poem of Grýla, this merry baker’s dozen get up to all sort of low-key mischief, according to legend, each with a talent so specialised they’re named after it - one licks wooden spoons, one steals sausages, one slams doors and wakes children. (I know, you’re getting flashbacks to your ex brother in-law aren’t you?).
There is also a window peeper, a door licker and one who likes to drink milk straight from the sheep.
Hold on, I’ve been to that office Christmas party. It’s the reason I went freelance and, to this day, have a morbid fear of Reindeer deeley boppers.
Yule Cat
The Yule lads tomfoolery with potatoes might be rather mild, but these boys have have a pet. And it is not a cute one.
The Yule Cat, features in Jóhannes úr Kötlum’s 1932 book Jólin koma (Christmas is Coming), and reportedly has glowing eyes and sharp whiskers and claws. Oh, and did I mentioned it’s the size of a house? (Imagine the fur ball!)
Icelandic legend has it that the cat roams the countryside looking for children who (reports vary) either aren't wearing the new clothes they got for Christmas, or didn't receive any new clothes before Christmas Eve because they failed to do enough chores. Either way, no new clothes, the kid gets eaten. Chomp chomp chomp. Sucks to be you.
I mean we all know cats can be arseholes but this is truly next level.
Reportedly this story was traditionally used to encourage farmworkers to finish processing the wool collected in the autumn before Christmas (whatever happened to the Christmas bonus), and this bonkers myth is still a big feature of Iceland’s xmas festivities. There’s even a statue of it in Reykjavík’s Lækjartorg square that I would encourage you to pose with if you ever go there. I certainly intend to.
So, there you go: Yule Cat. An unusual myth, for sure, but extremely handy for forcing your partner to wear that xmas onesie you bought them while hammered on Black Friday.
The Christmas Elf
Look away now if you’re already sick of that little bastard who insists you hide him in a different place every night, looking like he’s been up to mischief.
But for everyone else, let’s dig into exactly where these stripey-socked individuals actually came from.
Elves are the opposite of weird, really, as they are so ubiquitous at Christmas and we are all very used to seeing them.
But Elves were not always connected with the Yuletide. They probably sprung from early Norse mythology and, like fairies and leprechauns, were known for playing tricks, and also for exacting fearsome revenge if a human offended them.
But along the way, the myth was adopted into the St Nicholas story and the first suggestions of a Christmas Elf emerged. They first turn up in a poem from 1823, ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas’ by American writer Clement Clarke Moore. (It’s the one that begins, “Twas the night before Christmas”) And in the poem it says of St Nick “He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf.” This might be the first time Father Christmas and Elves were linked. But it caught on.
Around the mid 19th century, as Christmas festivals were regaining popularity, various Scandinavian writers began to depict elves as fairies who helped Santa Claus. In 1873, modern Christmas elves appeared in an illustration on the cover of the highly influential American women's magazine, Godey's Lady's Book.
Fifty years later, Disney cemented the role of the elf in a short film called Santa’s Workshop that showed them helping the big man with his duties on Xmas eve. (Cute and available to watch on Disney plus.)
And from here we went to Dudley Moore, to Will Ferrel, and finally to you, on your hands and knees at 5.30am, making a mess in your own house because the internet decided Christmas wasn’t busy enough for parents.
Merry Christmas breakdown. 🎄
Mari Lwyd
Ahhh, breathe a sigh of relief! The Christmas harrowing is over, we can all just settle back and …
Clip clop, clip clop, brrrrr….GARGHHHHH!
Here comes the Mari Lwyd.
A tradition in South Wales, UK, celebrated between Christmas and Twelfth Night, this involves a horse’s skull draped in ribbons that is then mounted onto a pole and affixed with a white sheet, creating some kind of haunted hobby horse that will then be carried through the streets at dusk.
I have so many questions.
Apparently, the tradition goes that the horse would be carried by one individual but travel with a group of people who would be dressed up in traditional costumes such as a Sergeant, Punch and Judy. They’d then take the fearsome nag to people’s houses and inns and sing to request entry. The householder would sing their reasons for denying them, and on it would go like this until the householder ran out of reasons and let them in for refreshments. (Coincidentally this is exactly how I hold a dinner party, except I never run out of reasons.)
The etymology of Mari Lwyd is hotly debated - some think it means Holy Mary and some Grey Horse. I mean, I’m putting my money on the latter, tbh, because I grew up Catholic and I never saw Our Lady honoured in quite this way.
While on paper this sounds like the most disturbing horse story I’ve encountered since Equus, in fact, it turns out that to see the horse approaching denotes good luck, and a visit from Mari Lwyd brings the portent of a good year to come. Hooray!
Now excuse me while I fetch a mop, a balloon and a bedsheet and nip for a quick canter.
Okay, that’s your weird festive round up. Hope you enjoyed yourselves. If you did, click the heart or, even better, share the post to show me you’re not a ghost trapped in an ancient book.
You know what else you might like? My novels, The Gods of Love and The Love Delusion which are chock full of mythology and sarcasm, just like I am. Find them by clicking the links above or the image below ❤️🏹🖤 Or buy them from Blackwells.
See you next time, Byeeeeeeee.
Absolutely bonkers. Iceland though. Kind of makes Björk look relatively well adjusted doesn’t it.
I would leave many hearts if I could! LOVE the stories and commentary!!