..guessing that the three other “wise men” coming from the East were probably from Hackney or Dagenham, which meant that they would be bearing gifts such as incense sticks, from Frank’s Eastern Cashbar (sic – very) that smell like a camel’s private parts, although unfortunately camels are not noted for keeping any of their parts private, bundles of bling and a partridge in a myrrh tree, felt that he had a little something definitely more acceptable to a hungry single Mum and babe that, owing to over confidence on Joseph’s part – “No need to ring ahead, there’s always room at the inn” – were now located, and starving hungry, in a nearby animal rescue home. The partridge didn’t smell good after a trek across the Sinai desert which left one of our Eastern wise arses with a bunch of myrrh twigs which, since they represent “gathering doom”, was never going to be a welcome gift. It didn’t take long for the lone wise man from the West to move to the front of the queue – not quite the front, as the bling was quite tempting, but second was good for a man bearing a tart. To be honest, a phrase I’m starting to use too often which means that lies fall from my tongue as regularly as years from Joan Collins’ age, the tart on offer was pure gold. In no time at all the Virgin – a likely tale, but say nothing – wanted more than a slice, she wanted to know how to make it, and being wise, the man from the West told her. First make some good sweet pastry……. peel and core some apples and stew them with sugar and vanilla to make a puree……lay the puree on the pastry and cover with thinly sliced apples, sugar and cinnamon…and cook in a hot oven for 25 mins and, with a pastry brush, cover with a sticky layer of molten home made apricot jam. West is West and East is East, and the right one I have chose, but don’t bet on it, this is Roger speaking…..