“Jesus Christ!!!!” exclaimed the CEO of a massive, mulit-national retail perveyor of semi-erotic underwear, “this is Christmas, for fuck sake, it has nothing to do with Jesus Christ”. (Well, he could have done, couldn’t he? I might have made it up but I might not).

What have we become? Where have we ended up? What is the state of the world when Christmas is now measured entirely in terms of sales figues, percentage increase on the high street, the effect of Black Friday on the Christmas boom, and now, even, whether the rapidly declining rouble will reduce sales in the next three days in London. Presumably as the Russian trillionaires decide to replace their Christmas turkey with 3-for-2 frozen pizzas from Asda. Which are now, incidentally, so ‘loaded with goodness’ that they count as one of your five a day. Though four more like that and you probably won’t live til Xmas.

So I think it is time to become a little spiritual. To divest ourselves of our materialistic constraints for just a few moments, to get in touch with our inner Christ and go back to what Christmas was before its cynical exploitation by the marketing departments. To what Christmas was, where it began, what it really stands for in its own context.

Its the story of a baby. Born in Bethlehem. Which is now in the occupied West Bank and run by Fatah under the Palestinian Authority. But then it was just Bethlehem, a home to Christians. Though logically, not til after the first Christmas. Obviously. So it was full of Jews, mainly, and Arabs. Though in fact the prophet Mohammed wasn’t born until 570 AD so that left just the Jews. And pagans. Anyway…

A young Jewish couple, Joseph, a shepherd, and Mary, who was constrained by the ‘glass ceiling’ even then and gave up her aspirations to become the Chairperson of a FOOTSIE 100 company and had to be a housewife. Though Mary was childless. Which was unsurprising because she was a virgin. And they’re generally a childless group. We’ll ignore issues regarding whether an unconsummated marriage is in fact any marriage at all, but cut to the relevant bit.

Mary, the virgin, pitches up at home one night when Joseph’s been out probably having illicit thoughts about his sheep all day, hopefully not actions, but marriage to a virgin couldn’t have been easy on Joe, and Mary announces that she’s pregnant.
” You fucking toe-rag of a slapper!” sayeth Joseph, understandably, “you dirty whore-bag slut!!! You been hanging round with Matthew Mark and Luke again? You dirty slaaaaaggg!!!”

“Naaah, Joey, it weren’t nuffink like dat, honest, I ain’t bin screwin’ nobody. Errrrrr, God diddit. Honest. God dunnit when I was sleepin’, and now I’m gonna have His baybeeee, ain’t I?”

I can only assume that Bethlehem in the just-BC era was nothing like Camden Town today, or Huddersfield, where such cries would have been met with a slap and laughter. They were more naive then. More believing.

And so it came to pass that Jesus Christ, the son of God was born (on Christmas dayyyyyyyyyy).

How we got from there to 4.6 billion quid spent in Oxford Street in 9 days is quite frankly beyond me.

But I’m not a Christian.

Happy Sabbath day to those who are.

A xxxx