We wrote an anarchic (in the best & worse senses of the word) Mummer's Play for Xmas festivities back around 1985 or so. Alas I no longer have the script, but I do remember one or two choice lines. The basic plot involved the Dragon killing Saint George, and the Devil grinding up his bones with excrement gathered from monastic latrines (with which he feeds the souls of the Roman Catholic Hierarchy in hell). Somehow or other Good Doctor (Watson?) miraculously brings him back to life causing Old 'Oss to wryly observe:

How fitting it is that Saint George the Brit
Should be a man of powdered bone mixed with Holy shit

Who said the age of sharp social commentary was dead, or yet had no place in the - er - Trad Arts?