They always seem longer when I am writing them on the toilet

Deep in the mire of the moor, laden with wisps of fog laced through dead trees, the cult of Ys gathered around the standing stone.
A blue green haze drifted through the crowd, buoyed by the thick English air.
A man stood atop the cairn and held court over the crowd. Cecil stood at the edge of the group, and strained on his toes to see to the center.
The man looked like a caricature of a bushman from the Strand. A Dr. Livingstonesque cartoon, a pile of leaves and hair with four naked limbs sprouting out. Two bright clear eyes exploded from the tangle, and their expression was urgent.
"Brothers! He said" he said to the crowd.
"The brotherhood of Ys must stand strong in the face of opposition and holocaust! He roared to the crowd" he roared to the crowd.
"THE CROWD ROARED BACK!"
Taking his cue, the crowd of men roared back in support.
"Brothers we are defined by our genetics and the difference in stem of a piece of science. One branch of X removed to become more, the Y. We, the sons of Ygdrassil, the world root, must remain strong! We hold the earth in our hands and it sifts through our fingers like yeast on a bakers bench. Jerks are a universe thick brothers!"
Moonlight broke through the most and outlined the speaker against the standing stone. Behind him, Ygdrassil, the world tree, climbed up to the sky, shooting beams of light into the eyes of the watchers.
"You have seen what they call progress. You know what they profess. With their automatons and their telegraphs. They cling to the tea service like it was the teat of the wolf mother of Romulus and Remus. But we say no! No to your humanity and your social mores. No to tea service and concrete! We follow the night! The nocturnal! A trio of trios, the nine breasted provider K'Mallmamoth! A wedding of the gods of the north with the goddess of the universe's deepest abyss! The man SCREAMED!" the man screamed at the rapt audience.
"THE CROWD ROARED IN REPLY, THE MAN SCREAMED!"
The crowd roared in reply.
"DOWNTON ABBEY WILL BE RENT ASUNDER AND FALL INTO DARKNESS!"

Across the moor, the Dowager Countess vomited again. This time just a little, in her mouth.