We all want some figgy pudding

We went to the Christmas tree lighting service at St. John's Cathedral last night. It was a mistake to sit with my colleague D., in retrospect, because he is an agnostic Jew - he has only been to a synagogue twice in his entire life. The pastor started with a few words of introduction that involved the words 'Jesus' and 'love maker'. D. started muttering under his breath that he was on strike against Jesus because he was the world's biggest conman, so I prodded him in the ribs. Then we started singing the carols. D. didn't sing, but he did stand with us. When we sat down, he said,
"This wouldn't happen in a synagogue."
While the orchestra played Mozart and Bach (and badly botched up the Bach - the conductor was also playing the trumpet and consequently could not conduct during that piece. It was a free-for-all, with every musician left to fend for himself. It was so comically bad that I laughed aloud), D. taught a little red-headed girl sitting in the pew in front of us how to pick her nose. I did my best to stop him without punching him, but the child worked out for herself what was the best way of picking her nose and showed it to her mother (who was quite horrified at what her dear girl showed her). The service ended and we joined everyone outside for mulled wine and mince pies under the magnificent Hong Kong skyline. D. liked the mince pies - he'd never had one before.
"This wouldn't happen in a synagogue," he said.
Buy your own mince pies next time, mate.