Season of Nuts and Yellow Fitfulness

Liturgical dress: Red hi-viz and hard hats. 


A fire of sticks burns in the Moot House grate. A pot of acorn coffee is suspended over it. Beaker Folk trying this seasonal fare are unsurprised to discover that it tastes horrible.


Archdruid: As Mr Kipling once said - "Autumn! Season of fogs and mellow fruitfulness."

The Hot Beaker is poured out upon the Dry Ice. "Fog" seeps across the Moot House floor. 


All: Autumn don't half make your ankles cold.


The Beaker People process out to the Grove, over which a tethered hot air balloon is floating.
In the distance, a stray Martian tripod destroys the Spade Shed. Justin Hayward's "Forever Autumn" plays. The Watcher of the Skies keeps a look out for descending satellites.

Archdruid: Autumn - symbol of mortality.

Red Maple leaves are poured out of the balloon. Each Beaker Person picks up a leaf and contemplates their own mortality. We achieve a moment of rare genuine contemplation in a mad world.


Archdruid: Autumn - a symbol of fruitfulness.

Cooking apples are poured out of the balloon. We scatter as the symbols of ripe fruitfulness - some of them weighing 4 or 5 pounds - hurtle out of the sky and squidge on the grass around us. A few nasty bruises are sustained.



Archdruid: You're all OK. You can come back.

All: Not while that maniac's throwing apples at us.

Archdruid: All the apples have been cast.

Beaker People drag themselves back into the Grove.

Archdruid: Autumn - bringer of darkness

Baskets of blackberries are poured out of the balloon. Beaker people run screaming as their clothes are stained.

Marston: My best muslin!

All: You what?

Marston: Look, there's something I've been wanting to share with you all...

Marston's revelations are suspended as hazelnuts start pouring out of the balloon. The Grove resounds to the shouts of pain, as they must have done at so many Beaker festivals when  the Neolithic Folk gathered in the growing cold of the dying year to pray for the sun.

Archdruid: Within the valley of shadowless death they pray for thunder clouds and rain.

All: But to the multitude who stand in the rain, heaven is where the sun shines.

Archdruid: Come on, let's go to Costa in MK and get a cup of coffee that's got no acorns in it.

The Beaker Folk proceed to the Car Park.

Burton [from the balloon]: Hi, er - people. Can you get me down now? I don't know how this thing works. Hello - guys?

The Piper at the Gates of Dawn picks a fight with Herne the Hunter, alleging breach of copyright. A fair elf-maiden dances across the lawn. But nobody notices.