The manager of the safari camp was terribly disappointed when the Australian Jesus declined his offer of a free holiday in the Congo. I heard the fellow make his excuses on the speakerphone in the manager’s office:
“Screw you, mate!” he snapped. “I’ve cut my hair and shaved my beard so that bastards like you will leave me alone!”
I naturally did what I could to console the manager, who looked rather crestfallen after this ungrateful outburst.
“I don’t think the guests would have liked him,” I said. “Jesus was a baby at Christmas, so it wouldn’t have suited the nativity theme. Why not get your wife to play Mary instead? She’s always telling me how much she misses being a virgin.”
“I’ve got a better idea: why don’t you play King Herod?” retorted the manager. “He obviously modelled himself on a gorilla.”
“You’re only saying that because he had hair growing out of nostrils” I replied. “This is not, in fact, a gorilla trait. Look at my nose.”
It goes without saying that we gorillas have nothing in common with King Herod, a man so evil that he died of a disease called Herod’s Evil. It is said that he suffered an agonising death, with maggots breeding in his todger. Serves him right for being such a blackguard, I suppose.
I’ve always liked the nativity story, mainly because of the prominent role played by animals. There were cows and goats in the stable, sheep in the pastures outside, and three wise apes to provide post-natal care. The species of each ape can be deduced from the gifts they brought. The bearer of gold must have been a vulgar orang-utan who thought bling was a suitable present for a baby. Myrrh was used as an aphrodisiac by the ancients, which suggests the involvement of a randy chimp. And a thoughtful gorilla must have brought the frankincense, which being an air-freshener would have been sorely needed in the stable.
The person I feel sorry for is Joseph, who got a pretty raw deal when you consider the facts:
1. Marries a virgin but isn’t allowed to have sex with her.
2. Gets cuckolded by God, whose child he is forced to bring up.
3. Busts his hump making tables and chairs while his adopted son plays hooky doing miracles and stuff.
On the plus side, he doesn’t get crucified and acquires a nifty collection of oil lamps.
This being the season of goodwill, I should end by offering words of heartfelt sympathy to the broken-hearted. One who might appreciate them is the Indian man now living in a tree after catching his wife fornicating with a local lover-boy. He won’t come down until his wife apologises, which she has stubbornly refused to do.
“If this is how humans behave, I’m going to live like a monkey,” he told the police when they asked him what he was up to.
I feel your pain, my friend. If you wish to continue your simian pilgrimage in the Congo, I’ll reserve a sturdy tree for you.
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