Impending apocalypse and Gangnam Style. The two things which Korea is most famed for at the moment. And, much like the innumerable parodies of Psy’s global smash, Kim Jong-un waving his overly-compensator nuclear phallus in South Korea’s bemused face has really stopped being funny. As the laughter at the Fat Controller from Thomas the Tank Engine being in charge of weapons of mass destruction turns into “holy shitballs, he may actually set this one off”, and a nuclear holocaust crosses from the realms of pure fantasy to “but, maybe… I mean, really?”, it’s time to start planning for, how, if it all kicks off this Trinity, you’ll spend your last day in a pre-wasteland Oxford.
Hey, well, if it’s all going to end in 24 hours, you may as well do all those things that the fear of ramifications prevented you from doing. Oxford is a ludicrously prescriptive environment. It’s time to flout the flip out of its straightjacketing regulations: pinch a book from the Bod, torch your minging gown and wear your mortarboard pre-finals like there’s no tomorrow (which, obviously there isn’t). But more than that, you need to race through your bucketlist: make a pass at your foxy tutor, have a wank in the Rad Cam and finally go on safari down to Brookes.
Keep calm and carry on
Maybe all that indulgent hedonism isn’t for you. Even as the bombs are flying maybe you’ll be the one in the college library desperately trying to finish writing that essay. As the majority of the University’s inhabitants take the opportunity to go feral (and as a trip to Wahoo will show there are always plenty ready to go utterly apeshit), the studious will continue undeterred. Will anyone ever get the chance to read it? Probably not, but that’s not the point. No essay left behind! It’s the keeno motto. Moreover, if civilisation ever manages to rebuild itself from the rubble, it’s going to need your 2.1ish musings on sediment flow rates, isn’t it now?
But maybe it’s not all over. Nuclear winter may be just round the corner, but perhaps the Four Horsemen will stay in their satanic stables for the time being. Get planning. Raid Tesco for supplies as you make your way to the Gladstone Link. The sterile subterranean maze already looks like a nuclear bunker (and its ghoulish inhabitants may well be radiation-afflcited mutants) and will keep you well hidden. Then, it’s a matter of waiting. You’ll also need to repopulate the earth, so be selective in those you take down there with you. Your best friend is going to br left outside with Mr Warhead: only the fittest, the brightest and the most virile can make their way in. There’s going to be very little to do down there (read? Pah), so it’s going to be pretty much a non-stop bonkfest. When enough time has passed, and you’re ready to return to the world above, be ready. There may well be zombies: but that’s a whole different kettle of imaginary, three-eyed fish…
Spend time with your loved ones? No chance, to get back home you’d have to first get aboard the Oxford Tube, and even though the world’s ending, that still doesn’t feel like a particularly attractive option. But, given that this is Oxford, where usually you feel as if time will just go on and on forever, ticking relentlessly on, never allowing you liberation from the stream of endless deadlines, perhaps the end of the world will be a nice change of pace. Every cloud, eh.
Whatever stance you decide to take, whether you nihilistically go down in a blaze of glory, or carry on as normal, or prepare for a fully blown nuclear-zombie-mutant war, I wish you the very best of luck if the guys in Pyongyang press that big red button: it’s going to be a blast.