The sun rises majestically over the Amazon warehouse at Marston Gate
Archdruid: Behold the glory of the rising Solstice Sun!
Burton Dasset: Shame there's so few to see it.
Archdruid: Yeah, so little commitment.
Burton: Yeah, they can't get up at 4 am just the once... Hang on...
Archdruid: What, little one?
Burton: Where are you?
Archdruid: I am always with you, Burton.
Burton: But you're just a cardboard cutout of Kirsty MacColl, and ChatGPT connected to a speech synthesiser.
Archdruid: Well, it's bloody early, Burton. None of us are getting any younger.
Burton: So I'm here all alone, in the early dawn, looking at the sun on my own?
Piper at the Gates of Dawn: Well, cheers for the affirmation, Burton.
Burton: No offence, Pan. But you're a mythological being, and I'm a semi-retired accountancy systems developer.
Hern the Hunter: And what about me?
Burton: Aren't you just another manifestation of Pan, but in an Anglo-Saxon milieu?
Hern the Hunter: Really? And there I was thinking I was a decayed folk memory of Woden.
Woden: I don't think so, horny-head....
Burton: Anyway. Happy solstice. I'm off to bed.
Chat-Archdruid: Snowflake.
Laurence Fox: Won't anyone give me some attention?
All: We preferred Lewis.
Mythological beings stroll off to McDonald's at Kingston for Breakfast
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