Posted tagged ‘Druids’

Tear your Playhouses down

January 1, 2013

The flames of a wicker man was burning at the side of the road as Long Hair trail blazed along the freeway. He had no inclination to see if there were any human sacrifice taking place in the straw. Necking down on a bottle of Jameson’s he was looking forward to the next three songs on radio 666’s Metal Chainsaw show’s playlist. They would be-

Evile- Cult
Opeth- Folklore
Marillion- Grendel

Before the barnstorming trio could be heard through the airwaves, Long Hair found himself going through the space and time continuum -as can happen to any one, from time to time. He was transported back through the ages and landed somewhere in a stony place in Wiltshire. The grounds were populated by natives of the era. This was dangerous, thought Long Hair, even Dr Who said you had to be careful with time travel. One little minor change can cause the whole of history to be re-written.

“Greetings, stranger. I am the chief Druid” The ancient druid welcomed Long Hair to the bustling nightclub that was Stonehenge. The flowing robes of members of the ancient order were dancing around an arc of stones. The Stones were set in a perfect, circular order. Some of the more adventurous dancing druids had mistletoe above their heads and were kissing their cousins.

Ignoring the rousing family get together that was in progress, the newcomer said. “I’m thirsty. Have you anything to drink around here?”

“Yes, my good man, we have many potions. Try this, it’s our best concoction. We call it Hooch.”

Taking a pitcher of the alcoholic beverage from the Chief Druid, the parched traveller drank merrily like a drain. What goes down must come up and he sprayed the regurgitated mixture out like a stream onto the chief Druid’s face.

“That Hooch is garbage.“ was the visitor’s opinion. “Tell you what, druidy boy, can you make me some of this.” He handed the drenched druids man an empty bottle of Jamesons.

“Of course we can. We can make anything here. Won’t be long.”

True to his word, within minutes a huge vat of Jamesons was produced that was as good as the original. Long Hair dunked his face in the bowl and filled his boots up.

“That Pict can’t half drink.” said one of the partying druids. Long Hair lifted his head from the cauldron.

“Did you call me a Pict?” he asked the innocent lower order druid.

“Yes, I did. You’re a Pict, aren’t you?” repeated the half-drunk partygoer in a pleasant tone of voice.

History was about to be changed. An enraged Long Hair battered the drunken druids one after the other -they were all guilty by association- into submission. Not content with dazing the druids Long Hair became a kind of Samson -he still had his long hair, after all- and he destroyed their nightclub of stones. Not a stone was left untouched. But he still wasn’t happy so he picked a few of the big blocks up and placed them horizontally on two upright blocks to make up a selection of goal posts. Should have brought a ball with me, thought Long hair.


“You’ve ruined our runes.” said the Chief Druid, coming back into consciousness.

“No, I’ve not, I’ve made them better. Only last week I tore off the arms from a statute and I was told it made it more ‘aesthetically pleasing’”

“You’re right. The place does look more distinctive.” agreed the Chief as he surveyed his new surroundings.

Long Hair pulled the robes of the druid and drawing him close to his face, with a fiery whisky breath uttered “How do I get out of here, wise man?”

Using a skeletal hand that had a large fingernail, the druid indicated. “The future is that way.” he said.

Loading the cauldron of Jamesons into the back seat of his car and breaking the axles in the process, Long Hair jumped into the driver’s seat. With his engine roaring he hurtled back to the future.