THE END IS NIGH.

When Jenny first mentioned that THE END OF THE WORLD (capital letters required) was taking place at Corsica Studios in Elephant and Castle, she mentioned panic-drinking and stampedes and frenzied sex orgies on the dance floor. So frankly, that part of the night didn't quite live up to expectations and quite frankly, I'm glad. (As an aside, surely that wouldn't be the case if it were in fact the end of the world anyway. It would take far too long to get to SE1 without the London bus service for starters and once there, would you really pay £10 to experience a few cherry shots and other people's sex orgies? No. You would probably stay at home, drink 750ml of cooking sherry and moan about it on twitter, from the safety of your bedclothes.)

Actual fact regardless, however, the End of the World was still a night to remember. Mostly because Gaz took charge of a large 'THE END IS NIGH/DANCE UNTIL YOU DIE' placard and I drank enough apple sourz to enjoy jumping around on the dance floor for a couple of hours. At two or three o'clock there was an announcement to say that the asteroid ('oh an asteroid, was it', mused I) had been averted and we were free to live another day, etc., etc. And so we breathed a collective thank-god sigh of relief a la every Bruce Willis action film and went home for potato waffles. Incidentally, all the photos from the night make it look like I am proclaiming death to those around me, as I only come up to the 'YOU DIE' on the painted sign Gaz was waving.

Speaking of Armageddon, I have it all planned out (should it conveniently happen to take the form of War of the Worlds, that is). It's all about packing quickly and quietly (water, a knife, good shoes) and walking the hell out of London, reaching the Shire-like beacon of North Wales and finding my family safe and sound and waiting for me. Of course, if Armageddon takes place in the style of Deep Impact or The Day After Tomorrow, then Colwyn Bay will be one of the first places hit for sure. But if that is the case, then clearly we're all screwed. What a lovely thing to think about on a Sunday afternoon.