I just found this thing I wrote to Jayne in 1995, and decided it had historical interest. Here and now, in 2003, some of it still rings true. Some if it is wildly exagerated though- I mean, £3 for a packet of cigarettes? What was I thinking? I was a bit out on the Princess Di thing also..

THE WORLD, AS WE KNOW IT

Some cold hard truths.

* -Nuclear incidents will dominate our lives.

* -We will be 76 in the year 2050.

* -We will never be children again.

* -By the time we get really old, young people will be able to stop ageing in its tracks (but it'll be too late for us).

* -Boingg was probably destroyed thousands of years ago.

* -Father Christmas does not exist (anymore).

* -A Labour Government will not be able to stop Rail privatisation, or renationalise any of the other services.

* -John Lennon is dead.

* -So are most cool people (apart from us).

* -Cigarettes will be over £3 a packet, this time next year.

* -My degree won't be worth the paper it's printed on.

* -Peace will never happen anywhere.

* -The urban situation is worsening- guns will soon be essential accessories.

* -America will eat itself.

* -Literature will fall by the wayside, in favour of instant- hit technology.

* -Neither of us will ever win a significant amount on the Lottery, nor know anyone that does.

* -Democracy is, and always will be, a well-engineered sham.

* -Princess Di will be loved by millions forever, and make regular guest appearances on Coronation Street.

* -The Guardian will never sell more papers than The Sun.

* -Rupert Murdoch will die a rich and happy man.

* -Nostradamus will always be proved right by someone, somehow.

MESSAGE FOR 1996



The coming of 1996 means one thing, and one thing only- we have only 3 years to build a base on the moon, so that we can be on schedule for "Space 1999". If we fail in this, then we may as well give up on the manned mission to Jupiter in 2001- and then where are we? Mysterious forces will be creating new worlds on Jupiter's moons, and we won't know a thing about it. We disappointed George Orwell in 1984, and I'm buggared if we're going to do the same thing to Arthur C. Clarke. There's no point waiting for the aliens to come to us, you know. Why should they, when we're not even trying to get to them? They're up there watching Star Trek re-runs and having a right laugh at us, I'd put money on it. "Who is this Jim Kirk, in his bri-nylon shirt?" They ask themselves. "Where is his mighty Star ship?" They question, in funny accents. "They haven't even a base on the moon, like in 'Space 1999'", they chortle amongst themselves, admiring their perfect alien toes. And quite right too- what kind of civilisation invents Coronation Street before the Warp-drive anyway? We should be up there, like them, bathing in ultra-violet rays and glowing purple; dancing on solar beams, and playing sweet music on a harp strung with an alien material we barely understand. "How are you today?" we'd call over to the aliens. "Fine", they'd call back, "How is your moon-base?" We'd be great friends, you see, mutual equals in the universe. And if they were very nice to us, we could give them rides in our Eagle.