If Joseph were a builder from Gateshead

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/belief/2012/dec/25/christmas-bethlehem-updated

Version 0 of 1.

Jesus as the son of a teenage mother in Gateshead, whose builder boyfriend decides to stick with her even though the baby isn't his. A new government tax process forces them to travel down to some small village in Norfolk, because that's where he was born. Only by this point she's pretty close to her due date. It's the worst possible time to be trying to make a journey like that, he's only got his white van to drive in, and it's not got great suspension. To make matters worse, everyone else has to go to their place of birth too, so the roads are just diabolical.

When they finally arrive in Bethlehem, Norfolk, they discover that not only is it a smaller place than they'd imagined, but that both pubs, the Travelodge down the road and all the B&Bs have all been taken by other people. Right then, sitting in the pub car park, when Joseph is starting to get the road atlas out and figure out where else they could try that might have places to stay and would still leave them within striking distance of Bethlehem, Mary announces that her waters have broken and she's in labour. The baby is coming now. So now Joseph really starts to panic. His girlfriend is in labour in the back of his van, he hasn't got a clue where the nearest hospital is, whether they'd make it there if he tried, and he can't get a signal on his mobile because Bethlehem, Norfolk has really poor coverage. Which is when the landlord comes out with a baseball bat to find out what all the screaming in his car park is about.

Once Joseph has convinced him that his girlfriend is screaming because she's having a baby and not because he beat her up, which is harder than you might think because he's got a pretty broad Geordie accent and he's a skinhead white-van man who's built like the proverbial brick outhouse – anyway, once he's convinced him that Mary's having a baby, the landlord takes pity on him. He's got no rooms spare in the pub, and she can't give birth in any of the public rooms – "health and safety, mate – can't have girls popping babies out in the toilets", but he does have a garage round the back with an old sofa in it.

Meanwhile, out on the industrial estate on the outskirts of Bethlehem, there's a bunch of security guards playing cards in the control room. Dave, the shift supervisor, is dealing, Steve holds cards with one eye on the monitors, Gary is passing the teas round, and Matt is texting his girlfriend with one hand. Suddenly there's a flash like a flare going off on the monitors and they all turn to static. Gary almost drops the mugs. Steve curses, drops his cards and starts switching between cameras to try and find a working one. Dave gets to his feet and grabs his coat and torch. He rounds the others up, and they all trudge out to try and figure out what's going on, Matt still texting as they go. It's only when they get outside that they hear the singing. Not drunk kids larking about, or some car with its stereo turned up too loud, but proper singing – a choir, a really big choir, but somehow higher and deeper than anything they've ever heard before. And they can't quite make out the words, though they know exactly what it's about. Hopes fulfilled, boundless gratitude, and a pure, deep joy. Only they can't see where it's coming from. A song as loud as a rock concert, but no singers to be seen.

They walk around the warehouses shining their torches into every corner getting more and more uneasy. Dave is about to call the boss when the singing stops. It's completely silent. And that's when they see the man. Just one man, walking towards them. They can't take their eyes off him. Turning and running isn't an option. So they stand there as he gets close enough to look them in the eye.

"Don't be afraid." He says "I have a message for you from God. A baby has been born, about thirty seconds ago, in Bethlehem. He's going to save the world. You'll find him wrapped in an old dog-blanket on a broken sofa in the garage at the back of the Dog and Whistle."

And suddenly he's not alone, and it's no longer silent. The warehouses, car parks, alleyways, everywhere is suddenly full of people singing. They're surrounded, the song rolling over them, loud enough to deafen them. For five heartbeats, maybe six they stand there surrounded by this vast choir singing at the top of their lungs. And then it vanishes. And there's Dave, Gary, Steve and Matt standing there alone and the only sound is their breathing.

They looked at each other, no-one wanting to be the first to speak, the first to say what he thought. Finally, Dave cleared his throat.

"Right." He said. "We going to the Dog and Whistle then. See if we can find this baby?"

The garage at the Dog and Whistle is quiet. After Mary had the baby, the landlord fished out an old blanket from somewhere to wrap him in. Joseph is trying to figure out how they were going to get her and the baby to the hospital when a car roars into the car park and four guys dressed in some sort of security uniform bundle out. They look around, but pretty quickly zero in on the garage and they're coming over with torches, looking suspicious. Suddenly Joseph is a bit worried, and he walks out to meet them.

"Alright lads, what's going on?" He asks.

"We've come to see the baby." says Dave, "The man said he was here."