It'll be all right on the night

Never work with animals and children, they say, but surely it isn't a proper Nativity without them?

- Words by Kate Green Illustrations by John Holder

IT is the morning of the Nativity service in the village of Stockington-on-the-Moor and the Angel Gabriel has tonsillitis.

The vicar's wife, Mrs Cranberry, a retired drama teacher whose annual lot it is to direct proceedings, receives the disappointed parental call with weary resignation and wonders if she dares promote nine-year-old Carolla from her role as First Shepherd. The child is reserved, but possesses a sweet, true singing voice that would make angels weep.

Mrs Cranberry's thoughts are also occupied by the mildly troubling issue of Herod, a country boy who has taken to inhabiting his part as the baddie of the story a little too keenly ('Why can't I bring a gun? Herod would definitely have had one, probably a Purdey'). 'No, Joey, it's all right. Get down from the pulpit, please. Mary and Joseph don't want to be hit by a rocket.'

Mary is insisting that her Baby Jesus doll ('He's actually called Bruce, not Jesus') wears a Batman outfit ('He feels comfortable in it, Mrs Cranberry, and he's out of nappies now'), and the innkeeper, son of the landlord at the Boar's Head, has an unnerving tendency to ad lib: 'You'll love Room 8, Mary—it's got a freestanding bath.' Other minor crises include the loss of a tooth by one of the wise men, his piping 'I bring francinthenth' slightly diminishing the sense of occasion, a double booking by the organist ('So sorry, I didn't realise the St Agnes's Nine Lessons and Carols was on this evening') and the mislaying of a hearing aid by Mr Manger, genius creator of props. 'I said let's put the star above the door, not out on the moor... Oh, don't worry, don't worry.'