While outwardly consoling their distraught wannabee ‘Mary’, all parents are secretly delighted not to have to sit through two hours of mind-numbingly bad drama. Most were said to be happy to avoid the pretence that the performance was anything other than dreadful, only to maintain their child’s fragile artistic ego and hopes of one day going to RADA.
There would be no fixed grins and inner boredom, while listening to rhyming narration. Nobody would have to fashion a sheep costume out of a blanket and an industrial packet of cotton wool. There would be no half-arsed carol concerts and Panto can get in the bin.
Even teachers are secretly relieved not to be involved, said one: ‘Normally we’d have had the Gospels according to Matthew, Luke and Stanislavski. But Covid restrictions meant that Joseph could not be present at the birth. The Angel Gabriel was self-isolating. The stables were shut along with the rest of the hospitality sector. And a bubble of six could only include the Wisemen or the Shepherds, but not both.’
Jesus was asked to comment: ‘To be honest, I’ve never been a fan of theatre. Can I just have a birthday cake instead?’
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