Archdruid: Foreasmuch as the temperature is above 70F and Hnaef has come over all caveman-syndrome, it is intention in the Beaker Community of Husborne Crawley to declare an Barbecue.
All: Fine. I'll get the dumpy bottles of lager.
Hnaef: And I'll get the charcoal going.
A period of careful preparation follows, in which Hnaef attempts to light the charcoal while the other Beaker People set off to Tesco's at Kingston.
Young Keith: Who lighteth this barbecue?
Hnaef: I do.
Young Keith: And who standeth by with the petrol, for when Hnaef fails dismally?
All the other blokey blokes: We do.
Young Keith: And who whereth the suggestive, unfunny and borderline sexist apron?
Marston: I do.
Young Keith: And who standeth by with buckets of water, and of sand, and with fire extinguishers, for when it all goeth horribly wrong?
Everybody Else: We all do.
Hymn: Light up the Fire
Psalm of Lamentation over a failing Barbecue:
Oh how pathetic are these flames
And how paltry the heat thereof
For though Hnaef bloweth on the coals
And though his face is black even as the knocker of Newgate,as our own Cockney grannies used to say,
Yet the charcoal flameth not
and there is no fire within.
And though Hnaef, ever the optimist, hath placed a burger on the grille "just to test",
Yea it as raw even as the prawn that is raw.
And I wouldn't touch that burger with a barge pole,
Nay, not even if thou paid me many talents.
For it's eating that kind of burger that maketh us to go to Bedford General
Or even unto the L and D.
Hymn: We didn't start the fire.
Hnaef: Woe is me. For I am an man with a raw burger and no firelighters left.
Young Keith: Which fool applieth the petrol?
Marston: I do.
Young Keith: Then I declare it is time for us all to run.
Beaker People vanish in all directions, while Marston applies the petrol. A large explosion follows.
Young Keith: And so we commend the burgers to the earth, ashes to ashes. And we lament with Marston, who is no longer an hairy man, but is now a smooth man. And we reassure him that, though his eyebrows are no more, yet the black plume of smoke above Husborne Crawley is a sign set in the heavens that they will grown again one day.
Daphne Hnaef: While you men have been fooling around out here, we've cooked all the rest of the food in the ovens.
Archdruid: Supper's ready.