Kirsty Bosley: Why I won't be a pantomime dame

It would disappear from the face of the earth forever in a whirl of uncomfortable noise and migraine-inducing colour.

I have envisaged doing such a thing for years. Well, since way back when Nick Hancock was hosting the BBC show. For those of you that have lived much of your life on the moon, I will explain briefly what Room 101 is. It's a show on which celebrities are invited to abolish stuff they hate into a room below the Beeb studios, never to be seen again.

Things like poor manners and Post Office queues haunt the bowels of Room 101. The abominable worst of the worst, shunned into a cold hole to stagnate forever more. If I were to have my way, pantomime would be rejected to that very same grimy hole, the boring shouts of 'IT'S BEHIND YOU' and the hyperactive screams of over-excited children along with it. Kids laughing like mad even though they don't get the joke, they just like being able to make loud noises without being told off.

See also: Top pantomimes across the Midlands and Shropshire

I cannot see how this detestable, annual maniacal tradition is still living on. Our very grand Grand Theatre – which I love and respect may I add – broke records last year, selling more than £1million worth of tickets to their production of Cinderella. I was invited to meet the stars, and though it was a genuine pleasure to chat with Julian Clary about his time in our city, I couldn't face heading to see him at the show. I just couldn't stomach sitting through it. This is no reflection on any particular actor - I hate all pantos equally and with the same burning passion.

I couldn't believe that the good people of Wolverhampton and it's surrounding areas would spend A MILLION POUNDS on the same old jokes that they've heard a thousand times before. Oh, he's behind you look. Oh yes he is. OH YES HE IS. Oh god, please make it stop. Why won't it stop? HE'S BEHIND YOU!

See also: Pete Cashmore - Pantomimes are a national treasure

The sad thing is, I love Cinderella. It's my favourite Disney movie, the remake is ace too. The rags-to-riches story cannot fail to strike magic into the heart of any little girl. I could read it over and over again at bedtimes, even if it is a patriarchal story of dudes being the saviours of downtrodden girls (we'll save that for another column, eh?)

I love the shoes, I love the mice, I love the dress. I love Cinderella and her horrible sisters.

But who the heck is Buttons? And who is Widow Twanky? Is that another panto entirely?

Why is it a man? And what happened to her husband? How did he die?

Everything about panto is absurd and ludicrous, but in the worst ways. If I wanted absurd, I'd go home and binge watch Bottom on Netflix. At least Rik Mayall doesn't rely solely on the same two rubbish jokes.

Being in a room of screaming youngsters alone is enough to give me palpitations. My palms are sweating right now just thinking about it.

I'm not going to call for it to be abolished, of course. Even I know that Room 101 doesn't exist. Plus, I love that it's bringing people (and their money) into our local theatre. Double plus, my opinion is about as noteworthy as one of Widow Twanky's jokes.

Furthermore, I love that there's a safe, secure place where children can go and release some of the E-number-fuelled energy that they seem to have by the bucket load. I love the idea of families taking a trip somewhere, anywhere, together. And I love that it introduces kids to the performing arts from a young age, showing them what treading the boards looks like.

I don't, however, enjoy the plethora of otherwise redundant ex-soap stars delivering, almost verbatim, the lines that millions before them have uttered. There's nothing new about it, it's always just a rehash of something else.

I understand (from reviews and on-screen pantos, I couldn't hack sitting through it first hand) that the occasional new joke is slotted in to somehow mask how stale it is. A bit like hanging a Magic Tree in an abattoir and expecting it to make a difference to how repugnant the stench is.

There's also the occasional regional joke, to make the mums and dads elbow each other. It's an elbow of self-convincing acknowledgement that, hey, this isn't all that bad.

And I have just one thing to say to those poor deluded souls:

OH YES IT IS!