End of the world? Another load of anonymous bosh

Another one bites the dust, eh? That's to say the latest predicted date for the End of the World.

Mr Harold Camping, 89-year-old doomraker, must be feeling sick as a parrot: It is not dead, nor has it ceased to be . . .

I have to say that I'm glad about this, not only for the undoubted pleasure of continued existence, but also because I'm backing our local team on this highly contentious issue (see previous post).

You may recall that our own outstandingly talented local loons, have already staked prior claim with a widely predicted almighty conflagration on top of our highest mountain Pic Bugarach on 12/12/2012. Or is it 21/12/2012?

Actually, I think it's hedging your bets and rather unfair not to make your mind up on the precise date, however local loyalty is a strong point with me. I'm not a big footie fan either, but I was nonetheless saddened when the dear old Potters, AKA Stoke City, from my native Staffordshire didn't win the FA Cup.

I'm keeping the flag flying and adding in the period atmosphere with a little help from Hell by Hieronymus Bosch. That's mostly because he's one of my favourite artists and it's a damned good excuse to use a decent pic.

Apart the benefits of another 18 months of reasonably certain existence here in France, an American End of the World would be too glitzy and commercial. It would all be sponsored and I have no desire to be Kentucky Fried in Hell (KFH), nor is the prospect of super-large extra fries appealing.

Armageddon would be wasted on Britain as well. For a start it would all have to be done on the cheap and we'd probably end up only lightly kippered rather than properly incinerated, in order to save money. Then it would have to be privatised so that all the saved money could given to the bankers, who would also have to be pampered with free share options for Eternal Damnation. There again, that bit might just work . . .

No, France is the place. Not only do we have a wonderful freaky mountain where the famed Zargatrons of Planet Thargs have hidden their spaceship, all ready to escape at the crucial moment, we also have French bureaucracy: l'administration française in all its glory.

This is, of course, all part of my cunning survival plan: Do you any conception whatever of how much paperwork that Total Global Oblivion would generate in France? Or how long that it would take to process?

By my reckoning, the whole event could be delayed not only beyond our lifetimes, but also those of our children, and our children's children, and our children's children's children. By that time, the fonctionnaire (or uncivil servant) who originally compiled Le dossier de la Fin du Monde would be long dead, buried and chewing the roots of the dandelions, as they say here.

Now we all know that, no fonctionnaire can ever deal with any matter which is the job of another. It's more than either of their jobs are worth. Le dossier would never be completed, approval would never be given. QED: La Fin du Monde would never happen. Saved!

Sceptical as I may be, I still like to spare a thought for our valiant loons eagerly waiting near Pic Bugarach. This is because I invented our pet aliens the Zargatrons of Planet Thargs; just my own little dash of colour on the Epic Canvas of Legend. Actually I'm rather proud of them.