It’s getting out of hand and I don’t think there is anything we can do to stop it. Our island nation is sinking into the swollen sea. Or rather, the sea is coming up to meet us, exploring our bones as it draws back its frothing lips and licks its salty tongue in preparation of the next bite. Hungry sea. Angry sea. Avenging sea, I think. After the beaches were erased in a casual flick of its waters, the coastal towns and cities were the first to see the grey tides approaching. Overflowed sewage pipes, washed-out dump sites and the disturbed earth, unanchored from the deep roots we hacked away, all of it is given back to us by the sea in a colossal, unstoppable, reeking mess. We have enjoyed the convenience of these systems for a long time and, though we were not the ones to put them there, I suppose at some point, one generation or another has to pay back the debts we owe. Sucks that it has to be us, but there you have it.
The unanswered question broods above the national consciousness. Can we survive this? It’s put off by immediate concerns. How do we evacuate Liverpool? Where do we house the Thames refugees? Who is paying for all this, exactly? That’s the laugh of it all. There’s bodies floating along the streets in Hull and some cunt’s asking when can we get back to selling parfait. Don’t hold your breath, mate. Or do, I guess.
So we’re backpedalling, trying to save what we can of the old world as we go, rather than turning, cutting our losses, and running straight into a new one. Somewhere along the line, the mechanisms we made to make life better for ourselves became more important than life itself. So I understand why so many are blind to the obvious priority. Our things are more permanent and reliable than us and we have twisted our morality around so much that permanence and reliability have become synonymous with value. Unfortunately for living things, we tend not to be very permanent or reliable.
I think when all’s said and done, it’ll just be one dickhead alone on an island of gold bullion, waiting for the insatiable waters to claim all he owns.
Paddy Dobson
22nd August 2020