To be cancelled in the event of it being overcast.
Hymn: Catch a Falling Star
All: Ooh! Shooting star! Or is it the Space Station?
Archdruid: It's wrong to wish on space hardware.
All: I wish, I wish, I wish you'd care.
Burnhard: I wish I'd brought me glasses. Can't see a thing.
Archdruid: Behold! The tears of St Lawrence.
All: Not so sure about "tears". That was just the one.
Burnhard: Nope, still nothing.
Hnaef: Shouldn't we switch all the lights off? Surely it would help if we weren't being dazzled?
Archdruid: For Health + Safety reasons, we can't switch off the lights. Watching meteor showers in the dark is dangerous. You could trip over a badger or something.
All: Badger? You never mentioned badgers.
Archdruid: Look, we're out watching the Perseid meteor shower in the middle of the night in the Bedfordshire. You've got to factor in badgers.
All: Badgers? Falling from space?
Rodrick: Beware the wrath of the Mutant Space Badgers!
Erewig: A moth! A moth!
All: Moths? Nobody mentioned moths!
Radwulf: Kill the lights! We're attracting them!
The lights go out, while Beaker Folk rush for safety. Some light bruising may occur before they stop, realising it's safer to stand still.
The lights are switched on, revealing a lone figure, approaching along the drive.
All: A space badger! A giant moth! A.... Burton Dasset?
Burton (slightly slurred): You all waited up for me to get back from the Beer Festival! You must be my best friends. Let me tell you about my day... Now, the first one I tried was a light, summer golden ale. 4.2pc alcohol - but rather fruity even at that strength...
Panic breaks out. Beaker Folk trample over each other as they rush back to the Great House and safety.
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