A Darkened Moot House. The Beaker Folk sit, shivering, in the dark.
The procession enters.
All: Ow! Who just trod on me?
Archdruid: Sorry about that. I thought we were going to turn the lights off after we were all in?
Burton: No. The lights are on the blink as well as the heating. And what's with the stilettos?
Archdruid: Well, it's a special occasion. Don't want to wear the steelies I use in Ordinary time. Still, best press on. It's bloomin' taters in here. May the Earth Hour be with you.
All: And also with you.
Archdruid: In this most holy of Earth Hours, we switch off our lights for an hour
All: In a futile gesture of solidarity with our tortured earth.
Archdruid: We..... what was the next bit?
All: We can't remember. These service booklets aren't much use in the dark.
Archdruid: I emailed the order of service to you. Can you get your tablets?
All leave, walking into walls in the dark, and tripping over a passing badger.
All: A BADGER???
Blundering into the Mystic River caused by melting snow, the Beaker People thrash around for a bit before getting to the Great House. A few minutes pass.
All (returning with tablets): We embrace the dark of this quiet night, returning this earth to its primeval darkness. Apart from the eerie glow of 50 tablets, obviously.
LITURGY OF SORROW FOR THE MESS WE'VE MADE
Archdruid: We repent of our 4x4s, which tear up the roads and poison the air.
All: We repent of them. But we've still got to get to work. And with all this snow, you need the traction. What we could do with, is some warmer winters.
Archdruid: We repent of air-freighting fruit and veg from the Tropics to satisfy our need to have exotic food out of season.
All: We repent of it. Anyone fancy a piece of mango?
(Mango chunks are passed around, ironically.)
Archdruid: Especially we repent of planting a Mediterranean Drought Garden with all those half-hardy herbs and shrubs, in anticipation of warmer summers.
All: All the plants died in the frost, and the gravel got washed away when the garden flooded.
Archdruid: We repent of the three-mile round trips, when we drive every week to take the bottles to the bottle bank.
All: What do you mean? That's environmentally friendly, that is. Mother Gaia will love us for that.
Archdruid: What's that smell?
Young Keith: Oh, I thought I'd burn a few old tyres to give us a bit of warmth. It's environmentally friendly - kind of like recycling.
The Beaker People flee the Moot House, tripping over the badger again.
All: Aaagh! A BADGER!!!
The Beaker People rush into the frozen countryside, falling into the brook, getting stuck in the mud and generally getting closer to Mother Gaia.
The Archdruid reflects that for next year's Earth Hour, she'll lay on some powerful lighting.