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★★★☆☆ Earnest. Soggy. Avant-Garde? A Review Of Gribley’s Unique Nativity

by Constance Schittharder

On Christmas Eve twenty twenty-five my son Gurnen and I were amongst the small, baffled group to shuffle into the church at 7pm, unsure as to exactly what we were about to see. Whispers were shared, a decent mulled wine and tasteful cheese niblets were served, and then we all took our seats upon the pews.

The house lights lowered, leaving only a focussed spotlight circle upon the small church stage.

A small, hunched, slightly flushed figure stepped forward; a little cocktail shrimp of a man. In his hands, a plastic mop, a paper plate with a face drawn on in marker pen stapled to its head. He holds it aloft.

“I am Mary, a humble young woman from Nazareth!” A strange, warbling falsetto; more Mickey Mouse than mother-to-be. “And I don’t know it yet, but I am to be the most important woman ever!”

A rush of apprehensive titters from the audience. He stands the Mary mop up by its handle in a fire bucket of damp grit at his feet and then dashes back offstage.

Another mop, this one wrapped in a teatowel. “And I am Joseph!”

This was the start of Graham Crumb’s unique nativity, and it continued in much the same fashion. The arrival of the mop angel Gabriel, lowered down from the rafters on a length of garden twine by Graham’s associate Lesley. The journey to Bethlehem on the back of a ‘donkey’ (actually a pommel horse borrowed from the primary school’s gymnasium. Apparently, the vicar forbade them from using a real donkey from a local sanctuary). The arrival of the three wise mops, Balthazar being visibly soggy after being mistakenly used to clean the vestry floor by the church’s caretaker before the show.

Then, the moment itself. Graham arranges his mops into the iconic tableau, and then places the baby Jesus into the toy manger. The baby sponge Jesus, born to “wash away the world’s sins.”

He stands amid the scene. Anxiously scans the audience for approval.

A few nervous claps. Then, strangely, thunderous applause. The sincerity behind this gesture is debatable, but the atmosphere in the room is suddenly electric.

Graham Crumb’s nativity was truly a thing to behold. Agonisingly earnest, shambolically amateur, and yet… It had a certain quality about it, a certain je ne sais quoi, that made it just… Perhaps avant-garde would be too strong a term, but you know what I mean. This was one man and his mops before God, and I applaud his effort.

I was going to give this piece four out of five stars, but unfortunately I slipped on a puddle of Balthazar water on my way out of the church and sprained my ankle, and spent Christmas on crutches as a result. Next year’s nativity tableau needs a wet floor sign.

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