POST APPOCALYPTIC PRESSURE

People wonder why I moved to the Middle East. Well, there are 11 reasons but one the one I wanted to bang on about here is number 6. If WW 3 kicks off chances are this part of the world will get fried extra crispy crispy in the first few hours. That’s my hope anyway because I don’t want to live in a post apocalyptical world. I’ve seen the movies. I know how it pans out. The clothes you are wearing on the day the nukes hit are the last decent ones you’ll ever have. They just get dirtier and dirtier after that till they rot and fall off and after that you have to go round dressed in fur and animal skins.
The survivors always end up being ruled by a black lady with big hair or an ex school teacher who is like into peace and love and getting along or an angry man with a Mohawk who is into violence and shooting cross bows. The only people who have any petrol are the Mohawk man’s mates and all they drive are dune buggies and motorbikes all over the place looking for people to kill. As if that wasn’t bad enough there is no TV no Internet and very few Mc Donald’s outlets are likely to survive. Apart form the daily struggle of trying to find food. Protect your family from the bands of marauding Mohawk men you will constantly have to explain stuff about the old world to the children born after the apocalypse. There will be shit lying around everywhere and the kids will want answers. Daddy what is a microwave oven? What were mail order brides? What was liposuction? You’re gonna have to explain all that stuff while you sit around the crappy little fire you have built in the ruins of an old hardware store while you make a spear out of an old broom and a garden trowel. No thanks. Take me out in the first wave. When that nuclear blast washes through the city I wont be one of those loser trying to outrun it. They always get squashed by a car that the blast has blown through the air anyway. Or their skin gets melted off their face as they cower in a doorway.
I’m gonna be in my deckchair sunbathing on the top of my apartment building without sun block and drinking really expensive champagne with friends and family when this particular chapter of our history comes to a climax.