There was a very strict order of months who lived by a rules that permitted speaking only once on one day a year, one monk per year.

When the day came around, the monks whose turn it was stood up and said, "I don't like the mash potatoes here, they're too lumpy." And he sat down. A year later, another monk stood up and said, " I rather like the mash potatoes here, they're very tasty." Another year went by it was a third month turn. He stood up and said, "I'm leaving the monastery, I can't stand this constant bickering."

Edit. Month in title should be monk. It was a 2 am joke on a htc. Cheers for reading this far.