It's The End Of The World As We Know It

www.paulcoia.com


So that’s it then. The bills still have to be paid, the garden will need weeding again, newspaper delivery has restarted, and the morning alarm clock survives to annoy me another day. Despite what was predicted, the world, it seems, didn’t end after all.

Brainy men in white coats stopped showering last Wednesday, and intelligent women put shaving to one side thinking there was just no point any more, as Swiss scientists switched on their shiny new electron accelerator in Switzerland. They were convinced it meant the end of the world and would open up a huge black hole in the centre of the earth which, like Fern Britton at a jelly and cream fair, would indiscriminately suck everything in.

We were told we were going to be destroyed and consigned to oblivion, and I guess some newly unemployed investment bankers must feel this week that it would have been welcome, but at least if we’d had Armageddon last Wednesday they wouldn’t know just how much the rest of us are laughing up our sleeves. Sympathy for a banker? About as much chance of that as Sarah Palin getting contact lenses or caravan owners having friends.

Of course the black hole frightener all turned out to be nonsense but, like the atheist who wore rosary beads around his neck just in case, on the day of the scare I was tempted to carry a torch and wear luminous clothing. Brave faces around me looked strained as it was explained on the TV news that, after the darkness, we’d all be meeting our maker and our existence would become a big nothingness, an empty void full of blankness, space and silence. We would all know, at last, what it’s like to be Prince Edward.

Well forgive me but, if I’m going to get sucked in to a black hole, I want to see who else is in there with me. I don’t want to end up sitting next to one of those talkative geeks in combat fatigues who infect the shopping malls, trying to get me to sign up to paintballing every weekend and not accepting a courteous “get lost” or a smiling “leave me alone you saddo”. I could, heaven forbid, end up sat beside our local energy conservation officer who would be the one and only person smugly happy with the total darkness. Incidentally, off the subject but a genuine riddle, why is it that the environmental people at our council send out more bits of paper than anyone else?

While the energy officer would be rejoicing that all the lights were off, I’m afraid that I would not as I’m not sure I could cope with rejection in a black hole. You see, when I was a single man, foot loose and desperate about town, girls used to end relationships by saying to me “I’m sorry I can’t see you anymore”. My big head assumed this meant they had cataracts, but it hurt, and so the thought of absolutely everyone saying “I can’t see you anymore” is much too much for my fragile ego to bear.

I guess there’s bound to be some upside to permanent darkness though. For me the great potential about a black hole is that I could perhaps convince people I was attractive, athletic, and six and a half feet tall, and my colour blindness and fashion disasters would go unnoticed. Also, no one would see me sleeping through meetings.

But thoughts of floating in space for eternity and trying to find bits of me that had been blown away have made me wonder how I would spend my last few moments on earth if the warning ever came for real. Obviously I’d choose to spend them with loved ones, but what of before that? If the last thing we’d do is gather our dearest close to us then I suppose the question I’m really asking is what’s the Second last thing you’d do if the world was about to come to an end?

The first idea I had was to take a cruise or fly to somewhere exotic but no one would be around to get the plane, or boat, away as they’d all be doing their own second last thing and I can’t imagine that looking after me would be high on their “to do” list. Then I though I’d race a sports car but I’ve already done that and, in fact, the more I thought about it the more I seem to have fulfilled any fantasies I had when I was younger. See the pyramids? Done that. Swim with giant turtles in the Seychelles? That too. Go inside a space rocket? Got the T shirt to prove it.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t think of any big thing I would really, really like to do. Unless you count Claudia Schiffer.

So, I guess what would happen if I was given enough warning of the big end is, like millions of others, I’d find spirituality a good bet and head off to church, or synagogue, or temple, or anywhere where people find strength in getting together and thinking of the bigger picture.

The black hole didn’t appear after all but perhaps it has made one or two people reflect on what a great time they’re having now and that nothing is going to get them down.

Apart, that is, from the announcement that they’re planning an even bigger, more dangerous, electron tunnel already which the white coats say really, really, honest governor, this time will mean the end of us all.

By the time it opens, hopefully, Claudia might be divorced.