Jesus’ Big London Birthday Bash

It is Boxing Day, the Son of God is struggling to resurrect himself this time. The challenge is not so much a boulder as a traffic cone on his head. There are stains on his toga and red wine never washes out. Fortunately the only holes in him are in his pockets, that last round of cocktails might have been a bit generous (togas have pockets alright…) Jesus sits back, ‘Oh God…  No Dad, I wasn’t talking to you.’ and begins that process familiar to us all of retracing just what carnage unfolded the night before. It was, of course, his 2015th Birthday (No year 0, remember? Whatever…)

(Note- This article is a joke. Written by someone who thinks he’s funny and reflecting no personal views what so ever. On Christmas Day between Carry On films. If Jesus existed, we think he was a jolly decent bloke. If you are likely to not take so kindly to this nonsense-typing lunatic, do please press ‘back’.)

Christ On a Bike!

Old J.C. hired a Beer Bike (or “Pedibus”) with his 11 mates. Judas didn’t turn up, apparently he was ‘working today’, the nob. The choice of tune? Nazareth.

Jesus checked his phone at regular intervals to read birthday wishes online. “Heyy Jesurrrz!!! Happy Birthday man! Can’t believe your like, 2015 years old now! Time flies innit. Cant w8 2 c u laterz. Gonna get smaaaashed! Much luv m8 Xoxox”

Pub

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst, so Jesus pitched in for a round. Except, tossing his radiant locks before the barmaid, he called:

‘Twelve tap waters please Darlin’, in wine glasses if you don’t mind.’

He looked over the bar snacks, “but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored?’ He went for a packet of scampi fries, they dispersed across the lads but 5000 would be pushing it.

Fabric

Turned, away from the likes of Mahiki and Dstrkt for wearing sandals and being too many men, they got a bus to Shoreditch. After playing sober for the bouncers, Jesus rocked up to the party like…

The shot glasses left behind are rumoured to grant immortality to any ravers who drink from them. Judas was happy to come along for this bit, surprisingly, the nob.

The Last Orders Supper

Following the Shoreditchites, falling into the nearest Kebab house was a priority. At this point John the Baptist wanted to get a selfie with the lads,

‘Everyone get in! Get in!’

‘Wait, I’m not in!’

‘Oi, “Jud-arse”, get over there and take the photo!’

‘Everyone put your arms up!’

‘Not cool man, too soon.’

‘Okay, okay, do the squat pose like a rapper or summin.’

‘But isn’t that, like, racist?’

An inebriated argument breaks out, until Jesus reveals four jaegerbombs after beer was a bad idea and Judas takes the photo.

The Nightbus

Jesus had lost his Oyster. He placed his hand on the reader ‘take up thy hand and find it is contactless’ The driver was not impressed. ‘Ah come on man, I’m the f&^%in son of God!’ He summoned an Uber. But half the lads had already tapped in, so the driver waved his hand casually and let him on. Score.

The Afterparty

Dad’s house (St Pauls….   see what I did there) was just down the road. Pete laughed about how they were partying under a giant boob. Half the lads were knackered and lay down on the pews.

‘Guys let’s go to an Offie!’

‘Matt, it’s the City of London on a Sunday night…’

‘What we gonna do then?’

‘Dunno. Sleep?’

‘It’s only four! The tube doesn’t open for another two hours.’

‘But look man, J.C. is plastered! He’s naked and his mum’s looking after him.’

‘F^&%$in’ lightweight.’

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