The End of the World as We Know It.

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about the end of the world. You know, what it would be like if suddenly there was a newsflash, saying that the Nukes were on their way, and that we had four minutes before they struck. What would you do? Would you run and try and hide – DUCK AND ROLL like they say in South Park? In the Fifties, people were drilled on what to do in the event of a nuclear strike on Britain. They were told that the best way they could ensure survival in the event of a thermonuclear explosion was to hide underneath a table, and wrap themselves in brown paper as protection against radiation. That’s it. That was the key to survival. AND PEOPLE BELIEVED IT. They honestly thought that following those steps would mean they could survive a nuclear holocaust.

People have an immense capacity for ignorance and stupidity. The other day, I saw a young girl, not more than 13 years old, riding on the bus. She was pregnant, and she had another kid with her, who was also hers. She was ignoring the child’s cries for attention, as she was totally absorbed in a magazine called Heat. Heat is a magazine of the type I’m sure you all have, wherever you are, which fills its pages with clumsily snapped pictures of celebrities shopping. And celebrities in bars. And nightclubs, and basically anywhere where someone will thrust a glass of champagne in their hand and tell them to go earn their pay by smiling really, REALLY hard at anything that flashes. These people earned more in a day than this girl would in two years, and yet she was transfixed. She was fixated on this gleamingly sordid world of addiction, relationships for the benefit of the press, and where behind closed doors egos battle for supremacy on a gigantic scale. It is this vain belief that someday all this would happen to her that provided her with the vacuous escapism she needed to get away from her own life, with its endless conveyor belt of hardships that life kept on throwing at her. I wanted to pick her up by the shoulders and ask her ‘Why? Why do you love these people so much when they have given you so little?’ And then I realised. These people were her brown paper, their lives the table under which she sheltered.

I hate the inconsistencies and injustices of this world. I hate the fact that we live in a world where thousands of people queue up for the chance to be humiliated by a snide ‘judge’ who is there solely to criticise peoples singing abilities in front of a live studio audience. I hate that we live in a place where 10 year olds wear tight fitting tops that say ‘DIRRRRTYYY’ in huge letters, and then their parents call for the death penalty for Paedophiles.

We live in a world where couples pay thousands for the chance to have a baby, and thousands of babies are killed each day.

If the bombs came, I would go outside for a better look.

-Jez

‘The final story is one of me,
Who with four minutes left has used up three
I think of you, I think of me
Then I think of nothing, it's the end you see’

Mark Owen, Four Minute Warning

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