Nativity of Douglas Adams (Towel Day)

Liturgical Colour: Pink (so we're Somebody Else's Problem)

Beaker Folk wandering out for this morning's worship are astounded to see the Moot House hanging in the air, in just the way that bricks don't. Above it, the Universe is dying. Using Electronic Thumbs they are teleported up to the Moot House - except Molvern who crashes into an exploding star, and Burton who ends up in the Car Park.

Archdruid: As the force-shielded dome above us slides apart, revealing a dark and sullen sky, hung with the ancient light of livid swollen stars, I can see we're in for a fabulous morning's apocalypse!

All: This must be a Friday. I never could get the hang of Fridays.

Archdruid: A time when men were real men.

All: Women were real women.

Archdruid: And small pink creatures from Alpha Centauri were real small pink creatures from Alpha Centauri.

All: Has anybody seen my mice?

Archdruid:  Don't Panic!

All: Who said anything about panicking? This is still just the culture shock. You wait till I've settled down into the situation and found my bearings. Then I'll start panicking.

Burton: Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and they tell me to add up the doily invoices.

Lamentation

All: You know,it's at times like this, when I'm trapped in a Vogon airlock with a man from Betelgeuse, and about to die of asphyxiation in deep space that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young.

Archdruid: "Why, what did she tell you?

All: I don't know. I didn't listen.

Archdruid: Hnaef, you seem to be changing into a penguin. Stop it.

All: I seem to be having a tremendous difficulty with my lifestyle.

Archdruid: Dudes, you've gotta know where your towel is.

Sending out

Archdruid: Go out from this place to return home to your own eras and raise families, and strive for new and better societies and fight terrible wars for what you know is right. It gives one real hope for the whole future of lifekind.

All: Except of course we know it hasn't got one.