Beaker Folk gather in a sandy, deserted place (Aspley Heath). In the absence of saguaro cactuses, a number of aloe vera are arranged tastefully. An archangel arrives with his hounds. A haunting tune can be heard on the air.
Charlii: Did you say "Whoooo are you?"
All: Nah, nah nah.
Gabriel: We've come for Ennio. (spits cigar from side of mouth)
Marston Moretaine: Oh no! I loved "Forever in Electric Dreams".
All: That's Gorgio Moroder.
Marston: Oh no. I loved "Moon River".
All: That was Henry Mancini.
Archdruid: So was he the good, the bad or the ugly?
Gabriel: Well, he was good, wasn't he? All the spaghetti western stuff. The Lloyd George thing. The Mission... If music be the food of love, he's a master chef.
Hnaef: I'm more a " Fideuà Westerns" person myself...
Archdruid: You take him over our dead bodies. 2020 has been bad enough already.
Gabriel: He was 91. And I'm an archangel. My orders are that if you don't let him go, you will regret the day you were born.
Archdruid: Fair enough. Crack on.
Gabriel and his hounds turn to leave
Burton Dasset: Blondy!
Gabriel: Blondy?
Burton Dasset: Fine head of hair there. Very European. Are all angels...
Gabriel: No. You are seeing me in your own image. You want something?
Burton: Yes. You've dropped your oboe...
The Mission bell tolls a cracked knell as the angel and hounds depart
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A timely reminder that the Ark Angel is accompanied by the Hounds of Hell, so it could go two ways, up or down for those who pop their clogs. Time for the Sacrament of Confession to be given bigger prominence in the CofE, the RC need not have a monopoly of the gates of heaven or hades.
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