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Filippo Mazzola [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
“How dare he waste his time inspiring multitudes when he could be pouring all his love and devotion into a small number of select human beings?” she told the magazine.
“Oh, but Mother, the whole human race are my children. No, Jesus, they’re not. Same as the cows in the yard aren’t the parents of all cows. Show me the adoption papers and maybe I’ll buy it. Till then, cut your hair and get a girlfriend.”
Jesus fans have reacted with anger, although not that much anger, because Mary is seen as holy and no-one wants to get into trouble.
Jesus himself was less than impressed, interupting the interview half way through to argue with his mother.
“I had a busy lifestyle, mother. My career was very important. It’s not selfish to want to save the entire human race.”
“You didn’t even save yourself. You’d have been better off having kids instead of traipsing up and down Galilee annoying people.”
“You never did understand my work. And who are you to talk, anyway? It’s not even like you planned on kids, Mum. From what you told me, you didn’t have any choice in the matter.”
“WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT!”
“Yeah, yeah… At the end of the day, I was dead by 33. There would have been loads of time left to have kids.”
“Give over, son. The life expectancy in our village was 34.”
This interview is part of the Herald’s special Christmas issue. Other articles include: Christmas and the War on Starbucks and Who Exactly Was Good King Wenceslas, and Why Should We Care About the View From His Window?
The Sceptical Poet 
Prophets have to be a bit pretentious to speak for mankind. Mary had a guilt complex over the virgin birth thing – Joseph was always suspicious and saying things behind her back. She tried to keep Jesus at home so he wouldn’t hear the rumors.
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[…] “I’m a single alien, alone in a world I don’t belong and Christmas is tough on single folk. Everyone celebrates in my name, but not one of you so-called believers visits or phones or even writes a shitty email. Instead, I sit at home, alone on Christmas Day with my TV dinner, watching the beyond miserable Eastenders special about dead children and three-legged cats. I sob my little alien heart out when the Christmas care line number comes streaming across the bottom of the screen. I have no one to love. No one to cuddle at night. My mother was right, I am selfish for not having children.” […]
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