If there’d been three wise women, not wise men that night in Bethlehem, what would they have brought Baby Jesus? Nothing. They would have presented Mary instead with gifts of nappies, some homemade soup, and a large bottle of Prosecco.

I love Xmas jokes. When does Father Xmas’s prefer pizza? When it’s deep pan, crisp ‘n’ even. What did Rudolph get from eating the Xmas decorations? Tinsilitis. What song does a Xmas tree like? Anything by Spruce Springsteen.  What do you call a six-year-old who doesn’t believe in Father Xmas? A rebel without a Claus.

They hark back to the Christmas cracker tradition, invented by the Victorians of course. In the 1840s, Tom Smith, an enterprising confectioner, decided to wrap almond sweets in paper to sell. He added love mottoes. Later an explosive crack sound. He called them Bangs of Expectations. Jokes first appeared in the 1920s, inside what were now known as crackers in the presumably to try to bring some levity in the wake of The Great War.

But they’re not funny, I hear you cry. Oh yes they are! Cracker jokes are funny because they are so bad. ‘Why did the mushroom go to the party? Because he was a fun-guy.’ ‘Why was the Advent Calendar Depressed? Because its days were numbered.’ And this year’s winner of the Gold TV Award for the most topical joke:  ‘What type of cake is displayed in the British Museum? It’s stollen…’

My father had a joke for every occasion. The best would get a dusting (and sometimes a frosty response) after Xmas dinner. A product of the Les Dawson School, one of his most celebrated works, was about a man pulled over for speeding on Xmas Eve. ‘Give me a break officer’, he pleaded. ‘My wife has just left me’. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ the Officer retorted. ‘Well’ the man replied, ‘she ran off with a policeman and I thought you were bringing her back…’

Would Dad be censored now? There are those these days who find fault in a straw let alone a joke. Jokes are often now deemed inappropriate. With much of the world in conflict, with people struggling, being funny is a device that gets criticised for being insensitive and even cruel.

Even my own speciality genre of medical jokes might not pass the woke test. I could probably get away with ‘Doctor I think I’m a moth!’. ‘What are your symptoms?’ ‘I’m fine. I only came in as your light was on.’ But I’m not sure about my all-time favourite: A man goes to the doctor with a list of bizarre symptoms. He’s told to come back in three weeks for the results of his tests. When he returns the Doctor says ‘I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is they’ve named the disease after you…’

Yet we need humour more than ever. It helps us diffuse difficult aspects of being human. Jokes, jesters and fools throughout history have given adults a mechanism to laugh at pomposity, ridicule pretentiousness and highlight absurdities. Even Xmas Cracker jokes inject fun and a bit of necessary light relief. Plus they teach children about language and how to play on words.

Moreover, one of our greatest (and still functioning) British institutions – the Armed Forces –is home to the funniest, most biting and quickest humour. It’s part of being resilient and healthy camaraderie. One of the most amusing people I have ever met in Winchester was General Sir Antony Walker, former Head of the British Army who sadly died in October. Five minutes in his company and his wit would leave us all crying with laughter.

So let’s all put ‘elf and safety to one side and find that hidden mince spy. Here’s hoping you are having a Mary Christmas. And, as they sang in the desert all those years ago, ‘Oh Camel all ye faithful…’