If you ask me, although many have said that the recently discovered 4th-century papyrus claiming Jesus had a wife has to be a forgery, more evidence has turned up in the form of another papyrus which, this time, appears to be the wife’s diary, and here is one day’s entry: “And so my husband Jesus doth come hometh from Happy Hour in Galilee and is a bit tipsyeth and he has broughteth all these peoples with him and he do sayeth: ‘Feed us, woman, for we have the munchies’, and I protesteth like billy-o. ‘But Jesus, you big chump,’ I doth reply. ‘We haveth only two loaves and five fishes!’
“But, of course, being of womankind, I did stretch it to go round everybody and as I was scraping the burnt bits from the bottom of the pan, for this was to be mine own supper, I overheard the peoples sayeth to Jesus: ‘You have worketh a miracle!’, and I heard my Jesus say, ‘Yes, I have worketh a miracle’ and he doth bask in the glory, which waseth annoying.
“And then after my husband and his people had feasted, he do sayeth to me: ‘Give us drink, woman, for we are thirsty.’ So I poureth out the water but then he doth sayeth: ‘We want drink drink’, and I protesteth like billy-o for my day had been hard and my mule had been stubborn but I went to the offie and did getteth some wine and when I returneth my husband doth hold the bottles over his head and sayeth joyously: ‘The water is now wine!’, and all did cheer, thinking he had done another miracle, which did seriously pisseth me off, letteth me tell you.
“Finally, all the peoples doth leave apart from Lazarus, who had too mucheth of the wine and would not getteth up so Jesus doth putteth a hand upon him and doth sayeth: ‘He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live’, which was a fat lot of use. ‘You are a fat lot of use,’ I tells him, as I get some strong coffee down Lazarus and also gives him a slappeth round the chops, which rouseth him. ‘He has risen! A miracle,’ Lazarus’s sister, Martha, doth exclaim, and Jesus says, ‘Yes, a miracle!’ and so I loseth my temper and sayeth to my husband: ‘I’m fed up of doing all the miracles around here!’, and he sayeth to me ‘Shh, shh, shh, littleth woman. It’s not like you are ever going to be writteneth out of history.’
“And so I forgaveth him, at least enough to washeth his stinky feet and then dryeth them with my hair, which, frankly, is always a little bit creepy, but whateth can you do?”