The Great Pumpkin Fight

Now that the fall-out from last night's events has diminished let us consider the things that have come to pass among us.

The Harvest Moon Celebration was to have been a moment of great spiritual significance - the entrance of the White Pumpkins, representing the full moon,  causing the carrying-out of the large Yellow Pumpkins, representing the sun.

Trouble broke out as Morbit walked into the ceremony carrying one of the white pumpkins.  Morbit is a keen gardener, and was very gracious in supplying us with the whites, and a selection of the yellows.  But it was as Morbit moved forwards towards the Focus Table, he saw that the central pumpkin was the  200lb "Prizewinner" he's been growing for the Horticultural Society Competition.  Hollowed out, and with a tealight glowing through the traditional runic shapes cut in the side.

Forgetting that his role as cucurbitafer required grace and solemnity, Morbit ran towards Young Keith, whose role should have been to carry the large pumpkin out through the North-East door, throwing white pumpkins.  One missed Keith by a large margin and plugged Burton Dasset, while the second ricocheted off Keith's left ear and hit Burdwit in the stomach.  At this point, the joint erupted.  Pumpkins, butternut and other related squashes and  - for reasons we have yet to get to the bottom of - onions started flying around the place.

In the confusion, and with the air becoming thicker with squash flesh by the moment, somebody dumped the "Prizewinner" over Morbit's head.  He could not take the pumpkin off his head because he had his hands round Keith's throat.  Confused by the sudden lack of visibility and the sounds of battle, he blundered out through the Summer Sunrise door and into School Lane.

Now, it's little known that there is still an ancient by-law in Husborne Crawley that means that anyone trick-or-treating out of season is to be regarded as an outlaw, the punishment for which is to be rounded up by men with pointy sticks.  The locals were happy to revive a tradition that has not been enacted in several decades, and the next thing Mobit knew he was having to use Keith as a human shield to try to fend off some of the fiercer pokes.  Eventually Young Keith's uncle the police constable turned up and settled the situation down.

Not so in the Moot House, where by this time somebody had decided to avail themselves of the fire extinguishers.  We can't tell who the miscreants were, because they were already so covered in pumpkin, but unleashing the foam at short-range on the acolytes only added to the mess in which we were by now knee-deep.

Some people have complained that I may have been heavy-handed in bringing the ceremony to an end at  this point.  But surrounded by fifty people all throwing autumn vegetables at each other, what was I supposed to do?  Pronounce a blessing?  I'm just glad that I still had a couple of canisters of Mace, a present from a curate in East Anglia, in my handbag.  Suprising how quickly things came to an end after that.

All ceremonies are cancelled unil Thursday.  First we're all going to have to clean out the Moot House, and after that we're going to have to wait until the smell of pumpkins dies down.

In other news, we are contacting the Guinness Book of Records to see if "largest squash-related fight in a neo-spiritual coenobitic community" is a valid category.