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Eager to learn some spells that could protect our home, last weekend we attended a convention of London-based witches and wizards entitled Occulture. However, the mystic gathering was slightly discouraging. Everyone there was fat and wearing dirt-stained togas (i.e. there were no supernatural hotties, or those chicks from The Craft). One guy performed an hour long, one man version of Oedipus Rex (which was painful). Then another dude gave us a half-assed tarot card reading in which he told me (Bunny) that my life is going to suck, while a drunk wizard screamed “You’re going to die!” over and over again. Bleak.Since we got no actual help from these weirdos, we decided to leave them alone with their "psycho-geographical" Jack the Ripper role play and enlist the help of our shaman friend, Matthew Stone.In his infinite wisdom, he suggested we perform a ritual to ask the Spirit Gods to Save Our Squat (SOS).We performed the ritual at midnight in an abandoned warehouse in south London. As we don’t know much about the logistics of magic, we let the shaman take charge. The ritual began by lighting a circle of thirteen candles in which to contain the spiritual energy. We then spread rose quartz along the edges of the ring, to entrust that it was a circle of love and friendship, rather than of evil. Next the shaman told us to get completely naked. We were a bit freaked out at first, but you should always trust people who keep lots of crystals and weird looking sticks in their bedroom right? So we stripped.
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