I suppose it's customary for burnt-out old-timers such as myself to go on about how much better the club was back in the 1750s, when we didn't have all these newfangled roleplaying systems, or indeed a Monash for MURP to exist. But it's time for me to fly in the face of tradition and reminisce about something that only happened last year.
I am, of course, referring to the Burning Bush incident at Greyfriars, at MURP camp in 1998. Now, I understand and accept that MURP camps are traditionally places where religious experiences happen, but these are usually the kind of experiences which are best evoked with the help of certain medicinal substances such as alcohol, or other substances which I (as a pure and innocent member of MURP) know nothing about. It's not so usual for these religious experiences to manifest themselves in quite so material a way.
For you young whippersnappers who were too little to remember last year's camp, or for the rest of you older whippersnappers who were too completely plastered on medicinal substances to have even the slightest recollection of the event, this is what happened: At about 4 am, across the road, for no apparent reason, a tea-tree bush spontaneously combusted, with quite some force.
I can imagine what would have happened if we, as a club, happened to be elsewhere at the time. For one, Camp Manyung, on the opposite side of the road, would have become quite a bit more charcoal-enhanced. But I want to explore more avenues than that simple physical-world scenario.
Now, while it is true that most members of MURP were somewhat incapacitated at the time due to a virulent strain of the Fruit Tingles, there were one or two brave, sober souls, who put their lives on the line to protect their fellow roleplayers. MURP has always had a small quantity of teetotalers (motto: "We can get intoxicated on oxygen alone") and probably always will. It's probably part of that saying about opposites attracting, or more likely, it's probably that some of us are too addicted to chocolate to worry about alcohol.
So what happened next, I hear you ask? Well, our heroes, who shall remain nameless (for the simple reason that I was not there and only got this story secondhand), did the obvious thing and tried to put out the fire themselves. To this end, they grabbed every available fire extinguisher at Greyfriars and headed for the burning bush with great determination. At this climactic moment, above the crackling of the bush, was heard this unforgettable sound: fffffffffptpt.
Just why the fire extinguishers made this sound is not clear. Maybe they were borrowed from a stage set-managing company, or a humorous novelty store or something, because the one thing they unequivocably did not do was put out the fire. Which wasn't such a disaster really, it just meant that here was a burning bush, and no way of putting it out before it became a burning copse, and the nearby buildings became a burning corpse.
Ever the level thinkers, our heroes took the only possible action: they called for the fire brigade. "There's a small bush quietly burning away," the brigade were told, for by this stage, the bush had practically exhausted its fuel. And in a few minutes the fire brigade had arrived.
My theory is that it was a quiet night and everyone at the fire station was bored and wanted some action, because against this small defenceless bush they dispatched not one fire engine, but three, and numerous other small sundry vehicles to boot. The bush never had a chance. In just a few minutes, it was over, the bush was a small wet lump of charcoal, and silence once again settled on the peaceful Greyfriars.
And there the story should end. But let's take a moment to consider the ramifications of this event. Spontaneous burning bushes are a pretty rare event, as far as things go, so what kind of significance should we attach to this particular one?
The last time I heard anything about burning bushes was from the Bible, which can loosely be termed, "Based on a true story, at least bits of it". For those pagans and atheists out there, the story goes that Moses was chasing a lost goat and came across this burning bush in the middle of the desert, which spoke to him about how it was his god and about how he should take off his sandals, on account of this particular piece of desert was holy ground.
Which was probably pretty spectacular for 1500 BC, but technology has advanced a little since then and burning bushes don't really impress anyone these days. Still, it impressed Moses, whose life to this point largely consisted of goats, and the burning bush became one of the defining points in Judaism.
But imagine if way back then, Moses had had the ability to make a simple phone call and have three Country Fire Authority trucks come up and put out that burning bush with alarming punctuality and precision. I can only think of how Judaism would be quite a different religion nowadays if that were the case.
Or, on the flip side, did our heroes at Greyfriars put an end to the short and fiery life of a new deity, one that believed in traditional entrances? Admittedly, this display of pyrotechnics wasn't quite as awe-inspiring as the Biblical version (for one thing, this bush wasn't recorded as having spoken anything), but is MURP actively participating in deicide? They may have saved Greyfriars, which is ironically an old monastery, but our heroes might have a lot to answer for up on Mount Olympus.
We live in interesting times.