There are just six shopping days left until the world ends according to master bogus prognosticator, the almost late reverend Harald Camping – the octogenarian who has spent a mere not-to-be-sniffed at 70 years studying the bible – and that makes it difficult to know how to spend our last precious days destroying the planet. We might as well finish off the job.
According to Camping, if we are good clean fun-fearing Christians who have served God and the baby Jesus all our piteous lives, fearing religion like it actually exists and everything, rather than being a concept that used to stop people from doing naughty things, but is no longer efficacious, because pretty much most of us are nefarious miscreants, I should imagine we’ll be organising the care of our animals (because religion only seems to apply to human beings – the first of its many flaws), ironing our cardigans, applying brown shoe polish to our comfortable shoes, sewing name badges into our grey socks, cancelling the milk and plucking the wayward hairs from our hideous face moles.
For the rest of us: the licentious, filthy, scatological, serial masturbating, alcoholic arse junkies, we are more likely to be frivolously masturbating; marinating ourselves in cheap sticky alcohol; and fucking everything that moves, and most things that don’t. Fucking everything with a pulse and everything without a pulse. Fucking things that once had a pulse so intensely that they become reanimated, just in time to burn in hell (unless they’re Christian); and generally being Charlie Sheen.
It’s so difficult to know what Hell will be like, isn’t it, which makes it more difficult to be prepared. It’s one of the less popular Christian holiday destinations. I was thinking of joining up for an around-the-afterlife cruise. Start off with a fortnight in Limbo at a hot-el of my choice, kick back and relax in purgatory for several lifetimes and then finish off being slowly casseroled in Hell forever and ever. I wonder if Hell will have internet? Probably dial-up.
I suppose everyone’s idea of Hell is different. Like Room 101. I’m forever correcting generic morons who utter contemptibly stupid things such as “I can’t wait to go to hell – it’ll be full of loose women, sex parties and booze.” Ermm, no Dad, stop watching death metal videos.
Anyway, once the Christians have all fucked off upstairs to spend eternity manning a fairly quiet jumble sale, and eating slightly dry cake, whilst inoffensive elevator music plays in the background forever, us salacious ne’er-do-wells will have several months of wandering around with our faces charred, our caramelized eyeballs hanging from a burned thread and generally perishing before we get sucked into the underworld to spend the rest of forever, in my case, packed into a stadium of English football supporters and their Hello Magazine no better halves and their foul and obstreperous progeny all playing loudly on their Nintendos, with a football match on loop with the sound turned up really high, and images of Mariah Carey naked and in the throes of childbirth tattooed onto the insides of my eyelids; with a migraine and unable to eat anything but fishpaste sandwiches on cheap white bread. So a bit like two weeks in Tenerife then, but substantially longer.
Now poor Harald Camping has a lot to lose. He is already the source of much ridicule after his risible attempt at predicting Armageddon once before, in 1994. And in the States he is considered something of a buffoon. According to the charlatan, at 6pm on 21st May 2011 the planet will start experiencing earthquakes, and this will continue across the world in all the different time zones, as 6pm is reached.
Meanwhile, all the god-fearing do-gooders will float off up to heaven to wear polyester and bore each other into ecstatic comas, and then the rest of will have until October 2011 to get our shit together before the entire globe is annihilated and we get sucked into hell. A place twinned with Mariah Carey’s vagina.
Now I don’t want to cast aspersions on Rev. Camping’s studies and prognostications, but where I live, rain was predicted today and I’m sitting here wearing sunglasses and a bikini… I mean swimming trunks. Now if we live in a world where expert meteorologists can’t accurately predict the weather, what hope does this septic pensioner with no discernible grapple on reality and a reputation for quackery have?
The most worrying part of all this is the number of fools – and that is meant in the kindest possible way – that have parted with life savings to contribute to this great hoax. If anyone was going to be sucked into hell, it’s Harald Camping. Stealing from pensioners – not very Christian is it?
Perhaps we should start thinking about more feasible disasters, such as the imminent peak oil crisis, or Mariah Carey getting pregnant again.
I can’t help wondering what Victoria Beckham will wear to attend hell. I’m thinking flames. Fingers crossed.
Don’t forget to update your Facebook status on Friday night!
Share your thoughts about the end of the world but by leaving a comment, but make sure they’re righteous and holy otherwise you’ll be stuck here with me at least until October.
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