EVERY December, Christians around the world celebrate the birth of a baby who invented Christmas presents and made sure nothing bad would happen again, ever.
But did you know the magic tot’s origins were not due to a miraculous plan, but a teen mum’s genius excuse when put on the spot?
Until now, no one has ever doubted Mary’s account that she was literally a virgin impregnated by a divine spirit, but new evidence is making experts think having a baby may require sex to take place.
In a previously disregarded Gospel draft, known as ‘Luke’s Rough Version’, Mary is praised for her ability to ‘think on her feet’ despite the fact that ‘no one thought Joseph would fall for that’. This is what it says:
“And lo, in Nazareth there was a young woman whose name was Mary, who let out a terrible oath when she realised her Holy blob was late.
“For Mary was espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, who was dim of brain and personality, but did maketh plenty of shekels from his woodworking business.
“And Joseph came unto his betrothed and said: ‘Hail Mary, how hast thou missed thy blob when we have only done but some kissing and hand stuff?’ And Mary, filled with immaculate cockiness, joked unto Joseph: ‘I am surely still the Virgin Mary, even though I have no blob and am up the sacred duff.’
“And Mary marvelled, for though she knew Joseph to be thick of head, she had not expected him to believe this porkie.
“But Mary did runneth with it, and told of a ‘Gabriel’ who was an angel that delivered unto her the Good News, who was in no way the same Gabriel who worked on Jerusalem market and spilt his seed with many ladies.
“And God in heaven did witness Holy Mary’s impressive shit-chatting, and rewarded her with a baby with cool powers, and the honour of being made into statues displayed in grandmothers’ houses forever and ever. Amen.”
And that is how Our Lady attained supreme sainthood for winging it successfully, joining other sacred figures like John the Baptist, patron saint of swimming lessons, and Saint Patrick, patron saint of stag weekends.
Next week: To 1773, when Charles Dickens realised the best way to sell shitloads of books is to make them Christmassy.