Coven Abandons Human Sacrifice After Discovering London Catering Prices
Witches say ceremonial goat now “financially irresponsible” and guests will receive crisps instead — the true dark ritual is the invoice
Four Centuries of Feasting, Undone by a Quote
One of London’s oldest witch covens has abandoned its traditional midnight feast after discovering that catering a proper occult ceremony now costs more than renting the ritual chamber, a squeeze familiar to anyone tracking the ONS’s inflation and price indices.
The Sisters of the Eternal Moon have gathered every autumn since 1612 to chant, summon spirits and serve a buffet. This year’s ceremony has been downgraded. “We used to have roast goat, mulled wine, black pudding, twelve ceremonial pies and a dessert shaped like a screaming magistrate,” said High Priestess Mavis Darkwood. “Now we’re doing hummus.”
The crisis began when the coven requested quotes from London caterers for 45 witches, two warlocks and an unspecified entity from another dimension. The cheapest estimate was £7,800. “That didn’t include service,” Darkwood said. The entity was also counted as two guests because nobody could establish its dimensions.
Inflation Reaches the Underworld
The coven has already made several economies. Candles have been reduced from 666 to 48. Ceremonial robes must now be reused. The traditional silver dagger has been replaced with something from IKEA. “Technically it’s a cheese knife,” Darkwood admitted, “but once the chanting starts nobody notices.”
Professor Gideon Crowley, who studies occult economics, said witches have historically avoided inflation through barter, curses and the occasional exchange of firstborn children. “Modern London makes that difficult,” he said. “Landlords rarely accept eternal servitude as a deposit,” a policy consistent with the government’s own deposit protection scheme rules.
Priced Out of the Underworld, Too
The coven once met in woodland. That woodland became luxury flats. They moved to a church crypt. It became a wine bar. They then rented a basement beneath a vegan bakery in Stoke Newington. The bakery now charges them £85 per hour. “We summoned Satan there in 2019,” said coven treasurer Brenda Soot. “He looked at the rent and went straight back.”
Modernising Ancient Evil
Younger witches support changing tradition. Twenty-six-year-old apprentice Willow Fern said goat sacrifice has “problematic supply-chain optics.” She has proposed replacing it with an ethically sourced beetroot. “It stains beautifully,” she explained.
Older witches are less enthusiastic. “People don’t fear beetroot,” said Darkwood. “They should,” replied Fern. “Have you tried getting it out of linen?”
The coven conducted an internal survey. Forty-one percent supported vegetarian rituals. Thirty-three percent preferred traditional sacrifice. Twenty-six percent selected “whatever Costco has.”
Wine, No Hot Food, Full Moon Standards
The biggest controversy concerns the midnight banquet. Members traditionally consume enormous quantities of food after six hours of chanting. This year’s options are salt-and-vinegar crisps, supermarket olives and one wheel of brie. There will still be wine. “We’re witches,” Darkwood said. “We’re not animals.”
The ceremony will proceed on schedule. Organisers insist mystical standards remain high. There will be curses. There will be incantations. There will be dancing beneath the moon. There will simply not be hot food after 10 p.m.
Darkwood accepts the new reality. “People imagine witchcraft is about dark powers,” she said. “It’s mostly organising 47 women in a WhatsApp group and discovering nobody can do Thursday.” Experts believe the occult will survive. Londoners have been sacrificing enormous portions of their income to mysterious forces for decades. They call it rent.
Disclaimer
This article concerns witches, catering costs and the discovery that even ancient evil now requires a deposit and minimum spend. It is satire, created entirely through a human collaboration between two sentient beings: the world’s oldest tenured professor and a philosophy major turned dairy farmer.
Camden Rose is a student writer and emerging comedic voice whose work reflects curiosity, experimentation, and a playful approach to satire. Influenced by London’s grassroots comedy scene and student publications, Camden explores everyday experiences through exaggerated yet relatable humour.
Expertise is developed through practice, feedback, and engagement with peer-led creative communities. Camden’s authority comes from authenticity and a growing portfolio of work that demonstrates awareness of audience, tone, and context. Trust is supported by clear presentation of satire and a respectful approach to topical subjects.
Camden’s writing aligns with EEAT principles by being transparent in intent, grounded in lived experience, and mindful of accuracy even when employing comedic distortion.
