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The Society has always been quick to pick up on weird shit, and it doesn't get much weirder than this.
The country's only fully-operational stone circle, the Croydon Telephone Exchange, seems to have malfunctioned and is now causing a major disturbance in the fabric of reality, as well as attracting camper-vans full of hippies. We followed the story as the druids and mystics of the nation united to give BT a good seeing to.
Things began to go pear-shaped late last night as the switchboard, commandeered from the central pillar by a highly-trained fraternity of female druids with nasal voices and attitude problems, was unusually jammed with calls on an off-peak hour. Sister Mandy-How-May-I-Help-You recalls that "the calls were invariably reverse charge, for a man called Wesley who apparently lived in a phone-box on the high street, and on the subject of half a jar of gooseberry preserve". The jamming of the switchboard came, rather unfortunately, in the middle of the solstice of Scorpio and the waxing of the three pinnacle stars which put the stone circle in an astrologically vulnerable situation. "It was also rather distracting trying to sort out calls whilst watching a bunch of male Wiccans dance in the nuddy in the form of celebration," Sister Carol-Please-Hold-For-One-Moment remarked. "I nearly called someone 'Mr. Penis', I was that confused."
The warp and woof of which was, the whole of Britain's intricate system of mystic leylines and natural forces was engaged for a full hour, whilst New Age persons up and down the country were subjected to the mystic equivalent of a sad, digitised version of Greensleeves.
Funky
Occultist and Scholar of Pyramid Lore Dominic Crapweather was disgruntled when his pyramidal greenhouse, designed to capture the secrets of Egyptology and use them for growing bigger tomatoes, embalmed his vegetable patch and buried them in a large plastic sarcophagus. "Years of work and research - wasted," he lamented. "Do you know how long it takes to breed potatoes in the shape of an obelisk?"
The occult devastation was widespread. Vast amounts of livestock were arranged into bizarre circular formations in Yorkshire for several hours. In Brentford, the Hollow Earthers Drinking Society were run over by a tube train on the Piccadilly Line. Thousands of people tuned in to The National Lottery Show were subject to false visions of quality prime-time broadcasting. And over the Croydon and Byfleet area, occult diviners were shocked as the leylines of power reformed themselves into a message that said 'The Number You Have Dialled Has Not Been Recognised'.
"I'm surprised this hasn't happened sooner, quite frankly," the Society was told by Archdruid Gabriel Moonstocking, leader of the united occultist protest. "Mixing sophisticated, modern technology with something as anachronistic and antiquated as British Telecom was just asking for trouble. It would be like trying to mine for oil with a crystal pendant. No, it wouldn't. I'm not sure why I said that." A spokesperson for BT said, "Piss off, the lot of you".
Dipsticks
The Sisterhood of Telephone Operators blames the whole event on the increasing number of hippy beatniks who visit the circle every year and scrawl all kinds of flower-power graffiti all over it. "They want to hold a bloody music festival here next year. Can you imagine?" Sister Sharon-of-the-0181-Numbers complained. "This ain't no haven for tofu-eating weirdos who want to become one with the grass, or smoke it or whatever. The best thing would be just to keep the whole damn thing out of the public eye."
Problematic Misdirection Of Funding
So publishing an article on it won't do it any good….
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