And thus it was written that on the sixth day of the new year the sorcerer Cliph and the bewildered maker of maps would gather their people and say unto them Lo! It is an unbirthday, the most unbirthly of all days.
Yea it is said that our birthdays are nigh, but we must celebrate forthwith. And yea, they will go with them unto a named hall of some repute and there partake of victuals (but not fatted calves for the sorcerer did not eat of the flesh of the ox).
Brethren (and sistren too, verily) remember ye the sixth day and keep it holy. Make mark of it upon the rear of your finest sow, eldest child, or verily, should ye be so furnished, upon your almanac.
Look ye towards the stars for further datum on this event of great import, for surely, as the moment grows nearer will your nets be filled and heralds aplenty shout the tidings: The unbirthday is upon us! The unbirthday!
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