When they walked in they seemed somewhat bewildered. Magi can
be like that apparently, a bit ‘out
of it’ and other-worldly, but within a
minute they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch. I had joked to them
about ‘pulling up a pew’, but they didn’t get it, and said religion hadn’t got
that far yet. ‘But it will’, they all agreed, nodding.That’s astrologers for you.
It was an insightful comment from a group that’s been shot
to stardom (pun intended) ever since stumbling on the birth of a baby in a
barn. I told them I wouldn’t keep them long and that I just had a few questions
to ask.
‘Axe away man’, the tallest of them said, fiddling with a
bandage round his left thumb.
‘Yeah, axe anyfink’, the shorter of the three added. ‘Except
personal stuff’, he said, waving a be-jewelled finger at me.
His two colleagues
nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, we don’t do nuffink personal’, one of them said.
‘It’s nuffink personal – geddit?’
They all laughed and elbowed each other.
I sighed and turned to my notes. This could be a long
interview. But anyway, here’s the transcript, exclusive to TFU, as it happened
…
❇
TFU: What do I call you? You can’t all be called Magi
surely?
Tall Magi: Nah, that would be ridiculous wunnit? Yeah, nah,
well… like I’m Nigel yeah? He’s (points
to middle Magi) Benjamin, and then there’s Titch.
TFU: And is Titch short for anything?
(There is an awkward
silence for a few seconds)
Benjamin: (Suddenly
breaking the ice) Oh I geddit! “Short” for anyfink, yeah. Good one! (Titch blushes)
TFU: (Regaining
composure) So, tell me how you chose the name Dub3K…
Titch: ’Seazy innit? We Three Kings – ‘Dubbyew Three Kay’, or
– as we prefer it –‘Dub3K’.
TFU: Tell me about your encounter with the infant child…
Nigel: Oh well, that was sunnink else wannit? (They all nod in agreement.) That was,
’ow can I put it? It was definitely against all health’n’safety for a start. I
mean, a newborn in a barn for Chrissake? An’ don’t give me all that crap about there
bein’ no room in the inn, ’cos we all checked in no trouble. Three suites, ’ot
and cold runnin’ wossname, everyfink. We reckon the innkeeper should be on Hotel Inspector, innit lads? (They all nod again)
TFU: You must have been surprised to learn of the immaculate
conception?
Benjamin: Not as surprised as Joseph – or ‘Jos-F’ as ’e’s
now known in the media; that’s the thing about bein’ a celebrity innit? You
gotta ’ave a nickname – J-Lo, T-Swizzle, Riri, etcetera – so ’e’s now Jos-F and
she’s ‘Mair-E’.
Nigel: Yeah, ’sright. And it ain’t the Immaculate
Conception. Those of us in the industry call it the ‘iMac’.
Titch: Let’s just say that Jos-F was lookin’ a bit nervous,
specially as ’e’s a ginger and the wee one turned out to have black hair. (Snorts from all.) Inconceivable!
TFU: The child?
Titch: Yeah, the Holy One, y’know, wossname, the Messier.
TFU: Oh you mean the Messiah?
Nigel: Is that ’ow you say it? We thought it was Messier.
We’d never seen a baby quite so messy. The last star we followed the kid was
brilliant: polite, clean, smellin’ of talcum powder – the parents even declined
our frankincense and myrrh – took the gold though, stingy bastards – but this
little boy, ’e was deffo the messier of the two. I dunno where you got that word
messiah from…
TFU: The rumour is that God had a hand in all this…
Nigel: Bit more than ’is ’and I reckon, eh lads?! (chortles and sniggers all round, they all
touch fists)
TFU: But you must have been aware this was something really
special? I mean, wasn’t there an air of awe, of majesty, an atmosphere of
intense peace?
Benjamin: Dunno about peace mate. It was noisy and tense, ’specially
after we started making the crib.
TFU: You made the crib?
Nigel: in a manner of speaking. See, as we were followin’
yonder star, on day two it stopped over this huge barn. Enormous it was. (Nods from all.)
TFU: Oh, so there was a second barn?
Nigel: Yeah, called IKEA. So we go in, grab a free tape
measure and pencil, and sort of hypnotically weave our way through a maze of
furniture and fittings, following the projected arrows on the floor…
Titch: …and we end up in the nursery furniture department. I
says to the blokes, what we doin’ ’ere? And then suddenly this crib, what was
on display, started rockin’, on its own like. It were spooky.
Benjamin: Yeah, but that was the clue, see. A message from ‘Upstairs’
we reckon. So we note down the code number, nip down the travelator – picking up a couple of fluffy toys along the
way – and then there we are in Aisle 11/Row B where a flat-pack crib awaited
us.
TFU: So how did this affect the atmosphere in the holy barn?
Benjamin: (Snorts) Mate,
’ave you ever tried to assemble IKEA flat-pack furniture? First of all the
diagram showed we were supposed to lay everyfink out on a piece of
carpet! In a barn! What farmer has a rug of woven cotton on the floor of his
cowshed?
Titch: Yeah. Like, we’d brought gifts and things, but none
of us thought to bring a rug. Which is a bugger ’cos we’d just come from the
Orient an’ all.
Nigel: So, that was the first thing. Then we argued over the
assembly diagram…
Benjamin: And I dropped some of the dowels in the straw…
Nigel: Meanwhile, Jos-F and Mair-E are getting all angsty,
so I says to the others, don’t worry, I’ll go and get an ’ammer and some nails
from the innkeeper. Which I did.
TFU: How was the holy child at this point?
Titch: Amused, is the
word I’d use. He was taking great interest in what was going on with us putting
the crib together.
TFU: What time was this?
Nigel: Oh early, about seven a.m. – ‘Morning Assembly’ we called it. (More laughs and snorts.)
TFU: And did the hammer and nails work?
Benjamin: Oh yeah! In fact, it worked in a way we hadn’t
anticipated.
TFU: What? That the holy infant was finally able to rest
peacefully and in comfort?
Nigel: Nah, nuffink like that. Just as I was about to hammer
the last nail in, Mair-E says to Jos-F, ‘What shall we call him?’ I looked up
at the wrong moment, the hammer missed the nail and hit my thumb.
TFU: Did you swear?
Nigel: Where do you think the baby got his name from?
Ha ha love it! I was trying to think of a nickname for the donkey but I reckon I'd just make an ass of it. Maybe Ass-D?
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