CRAIG'S THOUGHTS by Craig Hanlon-Smith

This, Mary, is just the beginning... By Craig Hanlon-Smith @craigscontinuum

And lo it came to pass that so embedded into our collective psyche was the miracle of the Christmas story, that not even the unexpected shenanigans of 2020 could put a stop to the impending arrival of baby Jesus. And so arrive he will to save mankind. I mean humankind of course. Silly me. ‘Man’ is, after all, cancelled. And before anyone gets their knickers or other non-gender specific underwear in a twist, don’t. Cancel culture is, after all, quite selective. We have not, for example, cancelled religious texts such as that on which this festive ditty is about to be based, and in which we witness the rape of 12-year-old girls, public stoning of women and the mass murder of babies. It is also a text that advocates, nay encourages, the practice of homosexuality and I quote: “Jesus said to Simon and Peter (nb: good Middle Eastern names) ‘cast aside your nets, come with me and let us fish for men’.”

You can make this nonsense mean whatever you want it to, many do all over the world and most of them are exceedingly dangerous people. So pick your chin up off the floor or stuff a nutmeg flavoured Chupa Chups in the hole until I’ve finished. And cheer up, it’ll soon be Christmas.

Our Mary had been having a time of it recently. Some months ago now she had awoken in the early hours to find a nongender specific individual in her room named Gabriel – don’t judge, this was pre-lockdown. Gabriel rabbited on for much of the night about the son of man or some such that we would never dare say now. Mary became so hot and flustered she feared she had contracted coronavirus, but it turns out she was now with child. This means pregnant in today’s language. Had Mary’s condition been discovered by her neighbours she would have been stoned to death in the market. While I’m sure you’ve seen many a stoned Mary at Christmas, that is not what we speak of here. Stoned to death. Amen.

Joseph and his Mary were perturbed by much of this and insisted Mary had not yet been known to a man. In today’s language – she hadn’t had sex with a biological man with a virile penis that works on demand. And don’t give me any diversity fertility clinic or alternative methods nonsense, it’s approx 200BC in Judea and it’s really hot.

This Mary’s having a meltdown. Let us not judge our Mary for lying about the penetrative sex that she had clearly been having at least every other Tuesday. We’ve all been to that clinic. And guess what? They know you’re lying.

And so they set out on their epic adventure to take part in a now legendary census. They could have saved themselves the 70 miles to Bethlehem on a donkey by using the postal system, but King Herod had spent months discrediting the service and stated repeatedly and without merit that it was not to be trusted. He even demanded that some postal boxes were closed and removed to stop the fraud. Of course, in this green and pleasant land we don’t remove postal boxes, we paint them gold if a local person wins something. Have you ever tried looking for one of these gold post boxes? Don’t. You can’t see them. There’s a reason they were red.

And so off they set on their 70 miles. Seventy miles. Is it me, or in primary school did they make out it was so much longer than that? I’m certain Mary was up and down that school hall so many times we had to stick two extra verses on the end of Little Donkey. It’s no further than starting off in Southampton and winding up in Saltdean. It’s not that big a deal. Although best of… looking for wise men on those cliffs.

Despite their desperation, Joseph and his Mary could not find suitable lodgings in which to lay their weary heads. It wasn’t so much a matter of ‘no room at the inn’ but that the inns were in lockdown by decree of another erratic honey monster who had managed to hoodwink enough of the populace to wedge his lying ass into the seat of power. What a foreseeable, avoidable, years, decades in the making from all denominations, mess. Who will save us from the international horrors of our collective doom? Who?

Cue abdominal agony from the fruit of thy womb, Lord Jesus. Technically Mary’s womb but let’s not argue with religion. Furthermore, the only reason this was going to hurt is because Eve ate the apple when God told her not to, so technically it is the fault of woman. These are not my words; they are from the Bible and religious text must be interpreted as a literal instruction or historical fact. See also Father Christmas.

Look, let’s cut to the chase – the baby is in the manger, in modern language ‘trough’, and if you never went to that club in London Bridge, trust me it’s grim.

This is not the start the angel Gabriel had predicted for baby Jesus, but you know what? Did you predict any of this when you were crawling on your hands and knees nursing a cheap prosecco hangover on January 1? No. That’s life. Jesus will cope, after all he’s about to get his very own musical and how many of you can say that about your lives?

Picture the scene. The stable is empty bar a few pigs, sheep and chickens. There may be a horse and don’t forget the donkey but that’s knackered and is about to be shot. It feels like the UK will after a no/poor-deal Brexit on December 31 and anyone who hasn’t left doesn’t want to be here anyway, even Mary was dragged into that stable screaming. It’s horrid. The host of angels might as well not bother proclaiming any of it as they’re wearing facemasks and we can’t hear what they’re saying.

Not to mention the socially distanced shepherds who are arguing over who can or can’t visit baby Jesus, and whether or not the rule of six applies in Bethlehem and is that different in Jerusalem? And will King Herod’s advisor be able to do what the trucking nora he wants despite a total lack of clarity he himself penned?

Imagine Matthew, Mark, Luke and John (good traditional Middle Eastern names) having to write all that down. And as the close of another fine year approaches, should you find yourself despairing at the rise of the dogmatic sociopathic leader stamping his insistent foot like a troubled child who should know better, fear not. This is familiar territory. In response to the birth of baby Jesus, King Herod demanded that his soldiers kill all of the babies. Imagine that. “Go out and kill all of the babies.” This, Mary, is just the beginning.

We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.