Maybe it was sleep deprivation after the weekend's mourning activities, but his news wasn't universally received with the joy he had expected. Approximately half of the Gibbon Folk declared that it wasn't the original Moon Gibbon that was now eating the Moon. They claimed that the Moon Gibbon's son had taken on the family profession, and had probably buried the original Moon Gibbon on the Dark Side of the Moon.
We now have a schism in the ranks of the Moon Gibbon. Anathemas have been pronounced, a new plasterboard wall has been built down the centre of the Gibbon Wing. And ink and blood have been spilt in the biggest argument over a load of unprovable assertions since the Reformation.
Now New Beakerism is a big tent. We somehow hold together some post-modernists, Taizeholics, Enya fans, an accountant, and a bunch of people whose idea of worship is to run off into the woods for an evening's fertility frolics. Not to mention a group of the Hermits of Suspicion, who sit in the veg store and throw potatoes at people they don't trust. But I'm not sure we can cope with yet another sect. I think it's time some of the more extreme Beaker Folk loosened up a bit - particularly the Extreeme Primitive Beaker Folk, still living in a yurt in Five Acre Field. As the Prophetess herself said, "why can't we just be happy, baby?"
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