I'm not the world's religion expert, and I know I felt like God last week when I did that personality test and this week, having been dumped with the bastard child of all time, I feel like the mother of Jesus Christ. Slightly overweight, a bit of cellulite around the buttocks, quite miserable and not looking forward to the immediate future with any relish. OK, I may not have my own son's crucifixion to contend with (was the Vigin Mary still alive when he got crucified?)but I have got saving the NHS on my shoulders, which is a bloody great weight I can tell you.
Presumably on this day (which we know it wasn't, it was probably in July) approximately 1973 years ago the poor Virgin Mary was not looking forward to a skiing holiday next week. More to the point, rather than going on to be leader of the Christian faith or whatever he was, Jesus would have been treated for paranoid delusions in the NHS. So, I'm having a week off my heavenly duties and I will enjoy the pagan festivities whilst skiing down some hills and thank my lucky stars I wasn't around 2006 years ago, as just like now there's not much I could have done about it.