The LA Notebook can exclusively reveal that S. Claus, Esq, in fact resides at 5205 Old Mill Road in the city of Riverside, California, a few miles west of the Mojave desert.

It should have been obvious all along. Santa, after all, is one of the world’s leading entertainment brands. He has made dozens of movies, dating back to George Albert Smith’s 1899 masterpiece (brilliantly entitled Santa Claus). And then there are all the places named after him. Isn’t Santa Monica a bit of a giveaway? Or Santa Barbara? Also: any grown man who consumes 1.8 billion mince pies in a one-night blowout is going to need some serious detox facilities, a lot of therapy — and a damn good liposuctionist.

Yes, Santa belongs in California. But let’s not joke around (Christmas is a serious business). The resident of 5205 Old Mill Road goes by the pseudonym of Timothy Connaghan. He is 57, wears a real snowy white beard that keeps his kneecaps warm, and holds the title of executive director at the Amalgamated Order of Real-Bearded Santas. The organisation’s mission statement is to “bring together those special, real-bearded gentlemen who carry on the history and traditions of Santa Claus”.

The AORBS has 300 dues-paying members across the world and a database of 650 real-bearded Santas, who can earn up to $20 (£11.30) an hour for appearances at shopping centres. It is, essentially, a union for the world’s most successful fat chuckling men.

Mr Connaghan’s festive career can be traced back to the unlikely setting of the Vietnam War, where he first donned the red-and-white suit and fashioned a beard out of shaving cream. His motto: “The more realism you can add, the more it enhances the experience. We try to make a child believe for one more year.”

For Mr Connaghan, who wrote a book entitled Behind the Red Suit: the Business of Santa Claus, his annual ho-ho-hos are no laughing matter. According to the AORBS, a well-trained real-bearded Santa can make $30,000 during the festive season. A bad Santa will make $5,000, if he doesn’t get arrested first.

Take poor old Richard Mullen, a 52-year-old from Malden, Massachusetts, who decided to entertain the kiddies at his local shopping centre by wearing a snap-on beard and a Santa hat. Mr Mullen mistakenly thought that dropping his trousers would be a fun Santa gimmick, and was promptly rugby-tackled by security guards, then handcuffed by heavily armed police officers, who eventually released him on $200 bail after charging him for disorderly conduct.

Fortunately for Mr Mullen and his under-age witnesses, he was wearing tracksuit bottoms under his Santa suit.

All of which explains why Mr Connaghan presides over an organisation called the International University of Santa Claus, which has turned festive cheer into something of a science. For just $79, students earn a real degree and get to put the initials RBS (Real-Bearded Santa) after their name. These Santas are not to be confused with your local Royal Bank of Scotland mortgage officer.

The Santa University syllabus includes such classics as this: “Taking a photo with a scared child takes teamwork between the family, Santa’s helpers, Santa and the photographer.”

But it’s heartening to know that even professional Santas fret about the devaluation of their brand from a hero of European folklore (the original Saint Nicholas was a Turkish bishop) to a cheap salesman — a transformation that perhaps began when Coca-Cola hired the ad-genuis Haddon Sundblom to create a red-and-white liveried Claus to sell more soft drinks. Sundblom, incidentally, ended his career with a racy Santa-themed cover painting for Playboy ’s Christmas issue.

“Whether you are Christian or not,” Mr Connaghan says, “you can explain to your children that Christmas is not just a time for getting, but it’s really a time for giving.”

As for his fellow real-bearded Santas, Mr Connaghan had the following advice at a recent seminar: “Whatever you do is seen and is the image of Santa. If you’re going around with cleavage showing out of the back of your pants, that’s not Santa.”

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