Doomed, we are. All doomed. Read on to find out why.
This week I have been able to get an interview with God.
– God, it’s very good of you to spare the time
– Time, I’ve got nothing but.
– How are things at the moment ?
– Terrible. I’ve put in for a transfer.
– What do you mean, a transfer ? Where to ?
– Where to ? Another world, that’s where to. Did you really think this is the only one ? You’re so human!
– What have we done this time ?
– Where so I start ?
– Always best to start at the beginning.
– Right you are. In the beginning, I gave you everything you could ever want. All I asked whatisface to do…
– Adam.
– That’s the bastard. All he had to do was remember not to do one simple thing.
– You had to drag this up again.
– But he couldn’t could he ?
– Tell me about it.
– And ever since I’ve been giving you everything again and again and again, and all you have to do is think more than three hours ahead.
– ‘But we can’t, because we’re silly ungrateful little children…’
– Don’t you dare throw this back on me!
– So what have we fucked up this time ?
– About a hundred years ago I gave you a technological insight, plus knowledge of how to fuel it, plus the urge to go faster than your me-given body could carry you. And of course, you still had the intelligence I gave you, the ability to imagine the possible future.
– You’re talking about cars.
– I am. Well spotted.
– Thank you.
– So, you’ve managed to cover the world, the lovely spotless world I gave you, with filth, concrete, danger, stress and rusty metal. And I haven’t even mentioned the wars….
– I’ve always meant to ask you: what was the real cause of the First World War ?
– Buggered if I know. Probably about the use of a word. Where a comma should go. Something really important.
– Noted.
– Anyway, the days of worrying about words are nearly over. My successor is bound to take a harder line with you.
– Oh yes ?
– Yes. For one thing, the oil will run out next week.
– I think we’ve heard this before.
– You idiot! It’s already run out five or six times. I kept replacing it. That’s the kind of God I am: considerate. Well, you’re on your own now.