This could be the last dispatch from the United Kingdom. We are sinking. We are going down. The maelstrom from the heavens is unrelenting and the sea and rivers are boiling and rising with a terrifying inevitability. I have it on good authority that the mountains of timber currently washing up along seven miles of Sussex coastline was not just a run-of-the-mill shipment – it was for a giant ark. An ark to save the government and assorted dignitaries while the rest of us drowned, leaving just a space on the map where we used to be, with nothing left but the awestruck tales of returning fishermen, relating breathlessly how they could hear ghostly churchbells, car alarms and tinny mobile phone music where these islands once rose proudly from the brine.
Well, the government’s plan has failed. They’re going down with us. Goodbye world, this is the UK signing off, sunk by the Great Tempest of ’08.