Sunday, 1 February 2015

Apocalypse in a bus shelter

And I saw a creature with whirring wings hovering in the sky. And with six wings it hung over the bus shelter and spied the shelter with a camera eye. And I was in the eye and on the roof there were big blue letters in the colour of the UN and the letters were ‘NHS’. And I rejoiced greatly that, so visible from the sky, it would be protected.

Then I saw a hilux pick-up driving to the shelter and, not black, as I feared, but a blue creature and its yellow cur came from the truck. And like reapers, but with sledgehammers for scythes, they raised them to the glass of the shelter.

And I cried out 'But you have no mandate for this! Where is your authority?' And the wise watchers exclaimed, 'This must not happen to the shelter of the people!' And the creatures pretended to pause and then swung into the shelter anyway. In slo-mo the single, crystal glass shattered into millions of sparkling shards. And I despaired at the shards but the vultures rejoiced.

Woe to the shelter of the people!

And as I watched ant workers came from the ground and tried to carry the shards and piece them together. And I wept and wept for the workers. Who will help repair the shards? And I thought I saw one like a son of man walking among the bus stands. Wail for the shelter, its damage seems too great.

And as I looked, podiums were established; there was a red and a yellow and a blue and one that looked like a fag-end soaked in stale beer. And there was a green and there wasn't a green one. And those who perched on the podiums and their minions fought with words and SoMe.

And I heard a voice, the voice of the people, with ire, like the roar of the sea, and the voice said, ‘Stop pissing around! This is a bus shelter not a pantomime; people are going to die!’

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