Oh come off it, all ye faithful...

They've started confusing carol singing with Trick or Treat. They'll throw eggs at the door if we don't pay up

"What's that terrible noise outside?"

"What noise?"

"That noise. A sort of dismal howling."

The two of us pause and listen to the urban Battersea night.

"It's probably two foxes copulating. They make a terrible din."

"There it is again. You know, to be honest, it sounds more like orphans roasting on an open fire."

"Oh, God, it's the waits."

"The waits?"

"The carol singers. You know – 'We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, go on, Gert, you ring, we wish you a merry Christmas and come on guv, you can spare a quid, carntcher, garn, or we'll rip yer?'"

"I think you'll find that they don't say 'guv' any more, actually."

"What the hell are they singing? Is that supposed to be 'Come All Ye Faithful?' "

We listen to the faint uncommitted wailing outside, accompanied by fierce rings on the doorbell.

"You know, I never understood what on earth that was going on about. What's that all about, then?"

"What?"

"You know, when it goes off into theology. The second verse."

"Let's face it. We aren't going to get the second verse."

"But what's it supposed to mean? 'God of God, Light of Light?' "

"Well, that's because, you know, he's God, isn't he, baby Jesus, and he comes from God, because that's his dad, so it's God from God, like a hairdresser or something, you know, Pierre de Paris."

"But Light of Light –"

"No, that's different, because he's the light that's better than any other light, so that's more like the Hit Parade of Hit Parades, or something."

"Isn't that a bit confusing? When are they going to stop ringing that sodding doorbell?"

"Oh, they'll go away."

"But then, I mean, why is supposed to be abhorring the vi – er – gin's womb? I don't remember ever having abhorred a virgin's womb in my life."

"Well, he's God, isn't he, so he's probably a bit snooty about that sort of thing."

"But is abhorring in his line, really, or isn't he supposed to be endlessly, you know, sympathetic?"

"Well, yes, I know, there is that. I suppose he could have abhorred it only he didn't. So lo." "Lo?" "Lo."

"Are we supposed to be grateful for that? I mean, it's not much of a line, is it – lo, I abhor you not, get your coat, you've pulled."

"Well, he's God, isn't he. I expect it's a bit different with deities. When are those sodding waits going to push off? Is that the second or the third time we've had 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas?' "

"Third, I think, and it's getting less sincere every time. I'd probably better go and give them a quid. Round here, they've started confusing carol singing and Trick Or Treat. They'll be throwing eggs at the door if we don't."

"If you hadn't put the Birtwistle on so loud, we could pretend we weren't in. They're on to us. So, God's kindly not abhorring the virgin's womb. Very God."

"Très God, as you say. Come on, it's Christmas, you're allowed to be camp, that's what carols are for. I like your top, it's very God."

"All right, never mind the quid for the waits, I'd give them 20 for a rational explanation of 'Begotten, not created'. I mean, what the hell does that mean?"

"Hmm. That's a hard one. Well, maybe it's that God usually creates people from nothing, I mean, you know, Adam and Eve, and then he let them get on with it, begotting and begotting."

"Begetting."

"Whatever. Only Baby Jesus wasn't begotten like other people, because God had a hand in it – no, that's not right. He might have been created because that would have been the easiest thing for God to do, but he decided to beget him instead. No, that can't be right."

"It certainly doesn't sound very likely. I don't know that it makes any sense at all."

"Well, it's not supposed to make sense. It's Christmas. It's like Father Christmas and the Elves in Toyland. Did you see that vicar the other day who made all the kiddies cry by telling them that Father Christmas couldn't possibly exist – I mean, I was like, hello, why don't you tell us about your boss, then, and how he manages?

"The thing is that it doesn't make much sense at all, but it doesn't matter – I mean, if we can't understand the second verse of 'O Come All Ye Faithful', I don't suppose it makes much of a theological impact on the infant's carol service. But we like it, don't we? The Salvation Army brass band in Sloane Square, the roasting chestnuts at Oxford Circus, the boy who won Pop Idol turning on the lights in Regent Street – OK, maybe not that. But it's nice nonsense, isn't it?"

"I notice you didn't go and give the waits a quid, though, you Scrooge."

"Oh, they'll be back."

p.hensher@independent.co.uk