---
title: "Twenty-Six Minutes Of Ritual, Three Hours Of Dinner, One Catering Invoice."
dek: "The Brotherhood deposited its 1911 rite for copyright and nobody checked. We read it in a public reading room, timed it against three people who were admitted, and matched it to a VAT invoice for forty-one covers."
kind: explainer (Explainer)
desk: Shadow Governance
author: Marcus Oyelaran (fictional)
published: 2026-08-25T06:00:00Z
url: https://theyburied.com/article/twenty-six-minutes-then-dinner
tags: Babylonian Brotherhood, David Icke, Aldermere Hall, initiation, legal deposit, catering
genre: satire
status: fiction — nothing in this story happened; every person, source and document is invented
---

# Twenty-Six Minutes Of Ritual, Three Hours Of Dinner, One Catering Invoice.

*The Brotherhood deposited its 1911 rite for copyright and nobody checked. We read it in a public reading room, timed it against three people who were admitted, and matched it to a VAT invoice for forty-one covers.*

The rite by which a candidate is admitted to a Table of the Babylonian Brotherhood takes twenty-six minutes.

We can time it because it is printed, and it is printed because the Brotherhood printed it. In November 1911 the order's printer sent two copies of *The Form of Admission to a Table* to a legal-deposit library to secure the copyright in it, as he was obliged to do. It has been on an open shelf ever since.

The issue slip records two readers before this newspaper. One in 1958. One in 1979.

Thirty-four pages. Every word the Steward, the Warden and the candidate say, numbered, with the stage directions in italic. Not one time of day, and not one duration.

So we timed it.

## What we said last month

Four weeks ago this desk timed a different order's initiation from a caterer's dockets and said in print that we had not read that order's ritual book and would not print it if a member sent us one.

Nothing about that has changed except the shelf: this book was deposited by the institution that owns it, under a statute, on purpose. Our standards editor thinks that is a legal distinction doing the work of a moral one, and says so at the foot of this page.

## The twenty-six minutes

The rite has four movements and the rubric numbers them.

The three questions, put by the Warden and answered from the printed form: six minutes. The candidate's hands are "lightly constrained" throughout and released at the end of it. That is the only physical direction in thirty-four pages.

The sign, and the word that goes with it: two minutes. The rubric prints the direction and leaves the line blank.

The reading from the Instrument — Articles 1 to 4, and Article 11: nine minutes.

The signing of the roll, and the receipt of the first year's dues: nine minutes.

Six, two, nine and nine.

> **Figure:** One admission at Aldermere Hall, from the printed rubric and three people who were there — see https://theyburied.com/article/twenty-six-minutes-then-dinner

## Where the clock comes from

Three people who have been through it were walked separately through the printed text and asked how long each movement took.

Aurelian Mostyn-Baptiste was admitted at Aldermere in 2011 and resigned in 2019. Hesper Nwachukwu-Laing was admitted at Ravensmere in 2004 and is a member still. The third, admitted at Trentside in 1997, asked not to be named; he holds the only contemporaneous timing anyone has produced, a note made the following morning, which gives twenty-seven minutes.

None knew who the others were. Their figures agree to within ninety seconds everywhere except the reading, where they differ by four minutes — and where Mostyn-Baptiste volunteered, before we asked, that his own number was the one he would not trust.

Ms Nwachukwu-Laing points out that the 1911 text says "he" throughout, that it has never been reprinted, and that she answered as printed. The Instrument has admitted women since 1948. The rubric has not noticed.

## Three hours and five minutes

The doors close at 7.40. Dinner sits at 8.55 and rises at midnight. Forty-one covers, a printed grace of four lines unchanged since 1911 — "for what is set, and for what is not set" — and a toast list of nine.

Eight of the nine are printed: the Instrument, the Twelve Tables, the First Chair, the Founder, the Dead of the Table, the Bursar's Account, the Candidate, the Guests. The ninth line is a horizontal rule and nothing else, and has been since 1911.

## The invoice

Vanterpool & Daughters of Holbeach have catered the Aldermere Table since 1994. A former book-keeper gave us eleven years of their invoices, 2013 to 2023, checked against the company's filed accounts and its VAT registration.

They are dull and they are decisive. Dinner, forty-one covers. Hire of plate, forty-one. Printed grace cards, forty-one. Toast cards, nine. And on nine evenings out of a hundred and eighteen, one further line: "Candidate's card, 1 — £4.20".

Invoice 14022 is dated 15 March 2019 and bills the evening of Monday 11 March: forty-one covers, one candidate's card, VAT at twenty per cent, settled by bank transfer from the Table's own account eleven days later.

The Aldermere minute book for 11 March 2019 reads, in full: "Met. No business. Rose."

A rite was performed that night. The institution's own record is silent and its caterer's VAT invoice is not, and the invoice is the better document, because a firm that dates its bills wrongly has a different kind of problem.

> An admission is not business. It is the thing business interrupts.
>
> — Perpetua Vane-Oseni, Steward of the Aldermere Table

## What this desk takes from it

The rite is real, it is printed, it is unchanged since 1911 and it is still performed. Nothing here is a leak. The words were deposited by the Brotherhood, the times came from three people who were asked politely, and the proof that a ceremony happened on a particular Monday is a bill for forty-one dinners.

Perpetua Vane-Oseni's reply below is not a denial. She says we have described a dinner and missed a covenant, and she accounts for one of our four silent evenings and declines the other three.

The only comparable summons in our vault, [[PX-1104]], gives a dress code and a train and no rite at all. This order printed its rite, filed it with the state, and then let its own minute book go quiet.

## Sources (invented)

- The Form of Admission to a Table (Aldermere, privately printed, 1911), Thirty-four pages, quarter bound in cloth; the legal-deposit copy, shelfmark 12931.f.44 — Read over four days in the reading room on an ordinary reader's ticket, which is free; copied out by hand, with photography of two pages permitted under the library's rules (April 2026)
- Aurelian Mostyn-Baptiste, Admitted to the Aldermere Table in 2011; resigned from the Brotherhood in 2019 — Interviewed three times, twice in person; walked line by line through the printed rubric and asked to time each movement before he was shown any other account (May–July 2026)
- Hesper Nwachukwu-Laing, Admitted at Ravensmere in 2004; a member still — Two long telephone conversations, the second with the printed text open in front of her; no contact with the other attendees and no knowledge of who they were (June 2026)
- Eleven years of catering invoices, Vanterpool & Daughters Ltd, One hundred and eighteen invoices, delivery notes and printing dockets for the Aldermere Table, 2013–2023 — Supplied by a former book-keeper of the firm who was owed nothing and asked for nothing; every invoice checked against the company's filed accounts and against its VAT registration (June–August 2026)
- Perpetua Vane-Oseni, Steward of the Aldermere Table since 2015 — Sent the full draft, the timings, the figure and the invoice file on 28 July with no deadline imposed; replied in writing over seven pages (July–August 2026)

## Documents cited (invented)

- PX-1104: https://theyburied.com/vault/PX-1104

## What we could not confirm

- The ninth toast. The card has carried nine lines since 1911 and the ninth is a printed rule with no words under it. The rubric sends the Steward at that point to 'the words in his own book', and the Steward's book is manuscript, passes from officer to officer, and has never been printed or deposited anywhere. One attendee has given us six words. We have not printed them because we could not get a second attendee to confirm them, and Vane-Oseni will neither confirm nor correct him.
- Whether the twenty-six minutes is 1911's twenty-six minutes. The words are unchanged; we have the printed text and three people who followed it line by line. The clock is not in the text. Our earliest timing is a note written the morning after an admission in 1997 and it gives twenty-seven minutes. Between 1911 and 1997 we have nothing at all, and a rite read faster is still the same rite.
- Three of the four silent evenings. The invoices carry the candidate's-card line on nine nights; the Aldermere minute book records an admission on five. Vane-Oseni accounts below for one of the remaining four and says two are Wyre Dale's and one predates her. We asked for the Aldermere admission register, which would settle all four in an afternoon, and were refused in writing on 3 August. The refusal gives no reason. We have asked again.

## Right of reply

**Perpetua Vane-Oseni, Steward of the Aldermere Table** (Replied 18 August 2026, over seven pages. Printed entire and unedited, including the parts about this newspaper.):

> You have written a very accurate article about a dinner.
> 
> Let me begin with what I am not going to do, which is deny any of it. Your twenty-six minutes is right. Your forty-one covers is right. Your invoice is right, and I will say something about the invoice in a moment that I expect you will enjoy more than I do.
> 
> Now the correction, and it is not a correction of fact.
> 
> You have arranged the evening as twenty-six minutes of ritual and three hours and five of dinner, and every reader who sees it arranged that way will conclude that we are a dining club with a preamble. Turn it round. The dinner is three hours long because a man or a woman who has, at twenty past eight, bound themselves and their unborn grandchildren to forty other people cannot be handed a coat at half past. That is what the three hours are for. They are not the reward for the ceremony. They are the part of the ceremony we have never found a way to print.
> 
> On the deposit. Your account is that we filed the book for copyright and nobody thought to check. Nobody forgot anything. The printer told the then Steward in 1911 that the deposit was required of him, the Steward said yes, and the book has sat where you found it through two world wars and a hundred and fifteen years in which any of my predecessors could have made a bonfire of it and none of them did. You have found a document that was never hidden and used the word obtained about a reading-room ticket. Mr Osei-Quill made the same complaint to you this month. I do not know why you keep making the mistake.
> 
> On the minute book. You have four evenings on which our book says nothing and a caterer's invoice says forty-one people ate, and you have written that our record denies a ceremony. It denies nothing. It is silent, because an admission is not entered in the chapter book. An admission is entered in the Roll, at the Hall, in a different hand, in a volume you have already ordered from a court and written about at length. The chapter book minutes business — a roof, a subscription, a dispute between two members about a pew. An admission is not business. It is the thing business interrupts.
> 
> I will account for one of your four and not for the rest. On 11 March 2019 the clerk who should have taken the minute was the candidate's father. He stood down from the pen for the evening, as any clerk would, and the member who took it from him wrote what he understood the form to be, which was five words. They are bad words and too few of them. I have read them again since your letter came and I would rather they said more. The other three evenings are not mine to explain: two are Wyre Dale's and one is before my stewardship, and I have not asked, and if I had asked I would not tell you.
> 
> On the invoice, since you have made it your centrepiece. You are right that it is better evidence than our own book. I would say that is a criticism of our own book, and I have said as much to the Warden. We are an institution that has kept a register of title with great care for a hundred and seventy-seven years and has minuted its ordinary evenings like a man writing a shopping list. Both of those are choices somebody made, and neither of them is a secret.
> 
> On the ninth line of the toast card. It is a rule and nothing else because the words are not the card's to carry. They are in the Steward's book, which is manuscript, which is mine while I hold the office and my successor's afterwards, and which has never been printed, deposited or shown to anybody who was not sitting at that table. Your Mr Mostyn-Baptiste has told you what he remembers, you have not printed it, and I am grateful, and I will neither confirm him nor correct him. What I will do is take away the two things you were going to imply. It is not a toast to a living person. It is not a toast to a foreign power. It is six words about the dead, and you may make of that what you like.
> 
> Last. You spent four days in a reading room with a book we put there. You could have written to me in April and I would have sent you one by post, and you would have had the same twenty-six minutes and no article, because what you are selling your readers is not the rite. It is the discovery. We have not been hiding for a hundred and fifteen years. You have simply been the first person to go and look, and I would still rather you had the book than the wrong idea.

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They Buried is a satirical newspaper. Every story, source, document and person in it is invented. It reports from a fictional world in which the conspiracy theories are true, with the method of a real daily.