TWILIGHT OF THE GODS
We’re stocking up ready for Ragnarok;
we’ve sent out for candles and gin.
Mrs Horne on the corner has cancelled her papers,
the parson has penned a new hymn.
No tofu, no yoghurt, no balsamic vinegar,
not even pizza to spare,
no junk food, no ketchup, no nouvelle cuisine,
just some crumbs from a mouldy Lord’s Prayer.
No fuel at the pumps and no beer at the pubs,
widespread rumours of flooding and drought;
bottled water and toilet rolls triple in price
and the Prozac’s already run out.
Jamie Oliver pontificating once more
on the trendiest way we can diet,
while the Army have taken to manning the streets
with the nation expected to riot.
We kneel at the altar of HDTV,
keeping tabs on events through the night,
all those loonies assembled at Stonehenge to watch
pagan gods squaring up for a fight.
There’s Jupiter arm-wrestling Zeus with the Muses
high-fiving at sixes and sevens,
and Jehovah and Thor have declared outright war
as their lightning bolts light up the heavens.
The score at half-time is 3-2 to the Titans
with Hercules held in reserve,
every crack in the crust widening hour by hour.
Is the government losing its nerve?
After Stock Market meltdown, all futures suspended,
the bankers are suffering angina,
but God save the Queen – she’s just sent her condolences
out to the people of China.
Every cat, dog and pigeon is now on the menu
as Britain attempts to stay fed,
and there’s talk of an outbreak of cannibalism
in Croydon as anarchy spreads,
In my cabin I cower as ‘News on the Hour’
records what may be our last twilight;
with mankind defeated, our food-stocks depleted,
I’m down to the last jar of Marmite.
H
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Once again; nice work!
Originally Posted by hillwalker
