Sex and the End of the World


It’s an immutable rule of blogging that a mention of sex or the end of the world sends the hit ratio skyward. Luckily for me then, we can start the day by mentioning one Harold Camping, a Californian, (loony), preacher who is confidently predicting that the second coming will happen at 6pm on Saturday.

This will obviously come as something of a blow to those settling down to watch the sports highlights or Britain’s Got Talent on Saturday evening, and heaven forbid you’ve organised a dinner party. It really would be social suicide for the soufflé to be overdone in a burning flash from the heavens, not to mention your guests reduced to a smouldering pile of ashes on the Axminster. Still, the old reverend is a little unclear on which time zone gets zapped at 6pm so you may well make it through to the coffee and Bendick’s before 98% of you, (his figure), are dispatched to the cauldron of fire down below.

Quite frankly, I’m unperturbed. I’m quite used to cauldrons of angry fire; I go home to one every night.

Obviously, those who take a more sincere view of the integrity of the reverends beliefs may, as they pack in preparation for being teletransported into the afterlife, be a tad concerned for the wellbeing of their pets. Not to worry, some concerned Christians have got that base covered. Bless.....