The nanny piggins guide.., p.9
The Nanny Piggins Guide to Conquering Christmas,
p.9
‘How impertinent,’ declared Yudith Piggins. ‘I have not had a baby. And if I had had a baby I certainly wouldn’t stand around talking to a bunch of shepherds.’
‘But the Angel of the Lord came to us in the field,’ said the shepherd, ‘and told us that the bright star would guide us to the stable where Christ our saviour was born.’
Yudith Piggins turned and looked up at the sky. She had to shield her eyes from the glare because an enormously bright star was shining directly above them.
‘Let me get this straight,’ said Yudith Piggins. ‘An angel came to you in the field, told you a baby had been born and that you should go and visit it?’
‘That’s right,’ said the shepherd.
‘And this angel didn’t mention anything about appropriate visiting hours, or waiting a few hours while the mother got over a difficult labour?’ asked Yudith Piggins.
‘No,’ admitted the shepherd.
‘The angel didn’t say anything about not bringing your sheep to meet a newly born baby, whose immune system hasn’t developed yet and may be susceptible to goodness knows what sheep-born diseases?’ asked Yudith Piggins.
The shepherds looked down at the sheep they were carrying, which were undeniably dusty and slightly poo-ridden.
‘Ooops,’ said the shepherd. ‘We didn’t think of that.’
Yudith Piggins sighed. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t blame you, but this angel should have known better.’
‘So can we see the baby?’ asked the shepherd.
‘All right,’ conceded Yudith Piggins. ‘If you leave your sheep outside and you wash your hands thoroughly first.’
So Yudith Piggins led the shepherds in to see the baby. Mary was fast asleep on a bed of hay. And the baby was . . . nowhere to be seen.
‘Joseph!’ called Yudith Piggins.
Joseph looked up. He was still a bit green around the gills. ‘Yes.’
‘Where’s the baby?’ asked Yudith Piggins.
‘Oh, he fell asleep,’ said Joseph, ‘so I lay him in the manger.’
‘You did what?!’ accused Yudith Piggins. ‘What were you thinking? The animals eat out of the manger! Have you any idea how unhygienic that is? And not just for the baby, think about the poor animals! Would you eat off a dinner plate that someone had let a newborn baby sleep on?’
‘Um,’ said Joseph. Truth be told, after all he had seen in the last few hours, he wasn’t planning to eat again any time soon.
‘Never mind,’ said Yudith Piggins with a sigh. ‘I suppose if I have a stern word with the cow and the donkey I should be able to persuade them not to lick the baby for a few days. But really, didn’t you read any of the baby books?’
So the shepherds visited the baby. They all agreed he was most adorable. They counted his little toes, sniffed his lovely soft hair and said ‘oochiekookichoociecoo’ and all the other things everyone does when they meet a newborn. Then they went out into the town and proudly boasted of seeing the baby that would one day be their king. To which everyone said, ‘Yeah yeah, pull the other one.’
And so things returned to normal, or as normal as a stable with donkey, a cow, a very glamorous pig, a newly married couple and a newborn baby can be. Until late one night, Yudith Piggins was again awoken by a knock at the door.
‘Urgh,’ groaned Mary. She had just got the baby back to sleep; the last thing she wanted was for someone to come along and wake him up again.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Yudith Piggins, ‘and they better have a jolly good reason for waking us up at such an anti-social hour, or they are going to get a short sharp nip on the shins.’
When Yudith Piggins opened the door she was startled to discover it wasn’t shepherds this time, it was three amazingly dressed kings. She could tell from all the expensive, gold decorated robes they were wearing, and the fact that they had camels with them, that they were from some far distant, even more exotic land.
‘What do you want?’ asked Yudith Piggins suspiciously. The stable was becoming very overcrowded. She didn’t think they could fit in three kings and their camels as well.
‘We three kings from orient are,’ said the first king. His grammar was a little strange because Aramaic wasn’t his first language.
‘Bearing gifts we travel so far,’ said the second king.
‘Moor and mountain, field and fountain, following yonder star,’ added the third king.
Yudith Piggins looked up at the bright star overhead. ‘That star again,’ she muttered, ‘causes nothing but trouble. Although it does mean we can read at night without a reading light.’
‘We come bearing gifts,’ said the first king. Now this got Yudith’s attention.
‘Really?’ she said. ‘Well, that’s more like it. What did you bring? Chocolate cake?’
‘No, I’ve brought gold,’ said the first king.
‘I’ve brought frankincense,’ said the second king.
‘And I’ve got myrrh,’ said the third king.
‘None of you has children of your own, do you?’ said Yudith Piggins, shaking her head sadly. ‘It didn’t occur to any of you that the kid might prefer a squeaky soft toy or a teething ring.’
‘Sorry,’ said the first king.
‘That’s all right,’ said Yudith Piggins. ‘I suppose it’s the thought that counts.’
Yudith Piggins showed the three ‘wise’ men in. They gave their gifts, worshipped the baby, then spent a few awkward minutes trying to make small talk with the young parents, with whom the three royals had absolutely nothing in common.
They were just about to leave when the third king piped up and said, ‘Oh, by the way, when we came in to town we dropped by King Herod’s place.’
‘Really?’ asked Joseph politely.
‘It’s a royal thing,’ explained the king. ‘When you’re in town you have to drop by the local king to say hello.’
‘Oh,’ said Mary.
‘Anyhoo,’ continued the third king, ‘we did mention that we were coming to see a newborn king who would one day be king of us all.’
‘And how did he take that?’ asked Yudith Piggins suspiciously.
‘Very well,’ said the second king. ‘He said to give you his love. And he wants us to drop by on the way home to give him your postal address.’
‘You nitwit!’ accused Yudith Piggins, as she leapt to her trotters. ‘This is King Herod you’re talking about. And you’ve just told him a new king has been born who will one day take over his job.’
‘I hadn’t thought about it that way,’ admitted the king.
‘And Herod’s not exactly a king renowned for turning up and giving newborns frilly booties, is he?’ accused Yudith Piggins.
‘No,’ admitted the kings.
‘He’s better known for killing everybody who annoys him, isn’t he?’ accused Yudith Piggins.
‘Yes,’ conceded the second king. ‘He killed my camel because he said it looked at him funnily.’
‘Right,’ said Yudith Piggins, ‘everyone is packing up now.’
‘But it’s the middle of the night,’ moaned Mary.
‘Come on,’ said Yudith, ‘you’re never going to get a good night’s sleep here anyway, what with all the farm workers and foreign royalty who keep dropping by. You and Joseph had better take Jesus and flee into the desert before Herod finds you.’
‘All right,’ agreed Joseph.
‘And you three,’ said Yudith Piggins, glaring at the three kings, ‘you had better go home the long way, via Damascus.’
‘Awww,’ complained the kings, ‘not Damascus. You can’t get a decent falafel ball in Damascus.’
‘That’s enough of that,’ ordered Yudith Piggins. ‘You’re the one who dropped Mary and Joseph in it with Herod. You have to make up for it by sneaking out of town and going to the last place he’d ever look for you.’
‘All right,’ agreed the kings.
‘And that,’ announced Nanny Piggins, ‘is the story of the first Christmas. Jesus grew up to say a great deal of tremendously wise things about sharing food and being kind to children, and to try his hardest to save us all from our sins. With some of us there is so much sinning that is quite an undertaking. And it only came to be because he was lucky enough to have a Piggins act as midwife at his birth.’
‘Is that true?’ asked Michael.
‘Whether it is true or not is not the question,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘You have to have faith. And I have faith that if one of my ancestors was in the stable that night feeding the little baby crumbs of chocolate, it is the only rational explanation as to how a baby could flourish in such unhygienic circumstances.’
I object to the game Pin the Tail on the Donkey on ethical grounds because I think it encourages small children to torture the bottoms of innocent donkeys with drawing pins.
Now the scholars among you, who are familiar with the story of the first Christmas, will know that it was in fact a donkey who carried Mary, a full-term pregnant lady (and therefore no lightweight) all the way from Nazareth to Bethlehem (156 kilometres), a very impressive feat.
If that little donkey had not so heroically hauled Mary such a long way, there would be no Christmas! And with no Christmas there would be no Christmas presents, and no post-Christmas sales with heavily discounted chocolate! So really at this time of the year, donkeys should be treated with more respect than being randomly poked with pins.
That said, pinning the tail on things is jolly good fun. I enjoy any game that involves a blindfold and a pointy object. So I have redesigned the game to make it more suitable for Christmas Day. It is called Pin the Tail on Mr Green.
Simply draw a life-size picture of Mr Green. (If you have never met Mr Green, simply imagine the most boring person you know and combine them with the most irritating person you know and that will be good enough.)
Then hand out some tails (with drawing pins attached) to all the children and let them have a go at it.
Not only will the children enjoy the game, but you as the organiser can enjoy the experience of watching such an unpleasant person get skewered repeatedly.
I shall always remember the first time I tried rock cakes. I was pleasantly delighted to discover they taste nothing like rocks at all. They are, however, best eaten as soon as possible after emerging from the oven. When they are fresh, rock cakes are fluffy and spicy. But after an hour or two they change. Their texture begins to resemble the rocks they are named after. But if this happens to your rock cakes, do not despair. In doing so they become excellent projectiles. And experience has taught me that if you throw rock cakes at people you get in much less trouble than when you throw actual rocks.
INGREDIENTS
225 grams self-raising flour
½ teaspoon mixed spice
110 grams butter
110 grams caster sugar
110 grams mixed dried fruit
2 tablespoons milk
1 beaten egg
Deadlocks on all your doors and windows
METHOD
1. Roll up your sleeves and get your trotters dirty when you rub the butter into the flour and mixed spice. (Don’t worry, it is very pleasant to lick off later.)
2. Add the caster sugar and dried fruit.
3. In a separate bowl whisk the egg and milk, then add them to your mixture.
4. Now stir everything together thoroughly.
5. Drop the batter into a greased cupcake tin. (Be sure to leave plenty of batter in the bowl and on your wooden spoon for you to contentedly suck on while your cakes bake.)
6. Put the cupcake tray in the oven and bake at 200º°C for about 10 minutes. (You may have to cook them longer. It depends how much batter you put in each cupcake hole.)
7. Now this is the single most important step – LOCK ALL THE DOORS AND WINDOWS IN YOUR HOUSE! I cannot overemphasise the importance of this step. You see, freshly baked rock cakes smell so mouth-wateringly delicious that unless you want to share them with every single one of your neighbours, it is essential that you secure your home against cake invaders.
8. Turn your rock cakes out onto a cooling tray, but don’t let them cool too much as they are delicious while hot.
Eat and enjoy. Or leave and enjoy throwing at someone later. Either way, rock cakes are marvellous and I recommend them highly.
I am not usually a conspiracy theorist. I do not believe the government is hiding evidence of alien invasion. I don’t believe that Elvis Presley is still alive and selling second-hand cars in Florida. And I don’t think Hollywood filmmakers faked the moon landing. (Actually, the Ringmaster did but that is a story for another time.)
I do, however, believe there is a widespread movement among misguided mothers to sneak healthy food into children’s snack. You may have noticed this; perhaps some of the chocolate chips in your chocolate chip cookies have tasted more like sultanas, or you saw the remnants of carrot on the grater after your mother had been baking your birthday cake.
The root of the problem is that your mother loves you. So much so that she is prepared to sacrifice the taste of your food just so that you live a long and healthy life.
I have no such concerns. This recipe for chocolate cookies is very simple. It has no health benefits but the cookies taste extremely good.
INGREDIENTS
120 grams butter
60 grams caster sugar
120 grams self-raising flour
30 grams drinking chocolate powder
a pinch of salt
METHOD
1. Cream the butter and sugar.
2. Stir in the flour, drinking chocolate and salt.
3. Fight the urge to shove all the beautiful brown cookie dough in your mouth at once (or make a double quantity so you can shove half in your mouth and still have some leftover to make cookies).
4. Form the dough into balls the size of a walnut and place well apart on a baking sheet.
5. Flatten the balls with a wet fork.
6. Bake at 180°C for about 15 minutes.
NB. If you have been a naughty girl or boy, these cookies are an excellent treat to leave out for Santa. He is quite the cookie connoisseur. One bite of one of these deliciously crisp chocolate biscuits and he will pop the lump of coal back in his pocket and give you the pop gun or racing bike that you’ve been asking for.
On behalf of
Nanny Piggins, Boris and the Green children
I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a happy, safe and chocolate-filled holiday season.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Bonza Kwanzaa and Yaki-dah,
from
R.A. Spratt (the author)
About the Author
R.A. Spratt is an award-winning comedy writer with thirteen years’ experience in the television industry. She lives in Sydney with her husband and two daughters. Unlike Nanny Piggins, she has never willingly been blasted out of a cannon.
For more information about Nanny Piggins and R.A. Spratt, go to
www.raspratt.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
The Nanny Piggins Guide to Conquering Christmas
9780857980939
Copyright © R. A. Spratt 2013
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
A Random House Australia book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060
www.randomhouse.com.au
Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices
First published by Random House Australia in 2013
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Author: Spratt, R. A., author
Title: The Nanny Piggins guide to conquering Christmas/R. A.
Spratt
ISBN: 978 0 85798 0 939 (ebook)
Series: Spratt, R. A. Nanny Piggins
Target Audience: For primary school age
Subjects: Christmas–Juvenile fiction
Nannies–Juvenile fiction
Dewey Number: A823.4
Cover illustration by Gypsy Taylor
Cover and internal design by Christabella Designs
Internal illustrations by R. A. Spratt
Typesetting and eBook production by Midland Typesetters, Australia
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R. A. Spratt, The Nanny Piggins Guide to Conquering Christmas
