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| Getting ready to build the New Earth |
Beaker Folk walk across a barren landscape, with lovely crinkly edges.
Archdruid: I thought you'd like to know I'm feeling...
All: It is not appropriate any more to use mental health in a humorous context. Can we get onto the "space is big" stuff?
Archdruid: Behold where the light of infinity breaks in upon us!
All: We've seen it. It's rubbish.
Archduid: Any news on the Great Prophet Zarquon?
Great Prophet Zarquon (via grimy video link): I'm not coming back till you've got rid of that virus. At my age there's no way...
Hnaef: I knew we shouldn't have blasted all the telephone sanitizers into space.
Archdruid: We got rid of the marketing executives, mind.
Hnaef: True. At worst a mixed outcome.
Archdruid: There must be a hymn we can sing for Douglas Adams?
Hnaef: That renowned atheist?
Archdruid: Yeah, if only we hadn't banned everything by Syndey Carter.
A spaceship materialises in the orchard, hidden by an SEP.
Archdruid: What's that spaceship doing there?
Ford Prefect: How did you notice us? This was supposed to be Somebody Else's Problem.
Archdruid: Everything's always my problem. I'm the leader of a congregation. Not just my problem, normally my fault as well. And don't shake hands. We've banned it.
Ford Prefect: Maybe we could all just wave towels at each other?
Archdruid: I think you may have solved the problem of How to Share the Peace.
Zaphod Beeblebrox III: Hi Guys!
Archdruid: It is him! The one we all heard about! The groovy hoopy frood who really knows where his towel is!
Trillian: This is getting needlessly Messianic.
Archdruid: The one I last met in a party in Islington. Where he chatted me up all night and then went off with Tricia McMillan. I ended up being bored to death by....
Arthur Dent: Haven't I met you before?
Archdruid: Oh no. Not again.
Arthur Dent: Don't suppose you've got a cup of tea?
Archdruid: What do you want? We've got 42 kinds: PG, oolong, lapsang souchong, green, green with mint, Darjeeling, gunpowder, Earl Grey, Lady Grey, chamomile, Yorkshire, Tesco Own Label, or Church Special Fair Trade. I'd skip the church one. It's horrible.
Arthur Dent: Things have improved while I've been away.
Archdruid: And why are you wearing a dressing gown?
Arthur Dent: I've been working from home a lot.
Archdruid: OK. Take Beeblebrox and throw him in the Doily Shed. We've already got too many useless politicians who are there to draw attention from where the real power lies.
Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged: Archdruid Eileen Fitzroy-Russell?
Archdruid: Yes?
Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged: You're a dated pusher of Therapeutic Deism.
Archdruid: Thrown him in the Doily Shed with Zaphod. My friends from Krikkit will deal with them both later.
Hymn: Journey of the Sorcerer
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
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