By Hugo Ignatius Throckmorton, aged nine

TO begin with, I should have been Joseph. But my father’s endowment is apparently less deserving than Barnaby Haversham-Finch’s grandfather donating the full cost of the new stables.

Anyway. Mary, a young woman played by Piers, was visited by the Angel Gabriel who told her she would shortly give birth to the Son of God. Joseph, her husband, was a mere carpenter so there was no question of putting the child’s name down for Eton.

There was also no-one at home to help, for which I pitied them because Magdelena at home is an absolute godsend and has taught me elementary Polish.

Caesar Augustus was conducting a census, which Daddy explained is like an audit, except checking where everyone was born and not who has undisclosed bank accounts in the Caym

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