MELLIPOP FINDS HER NICHE IN THE POST-NUCLEAR WORLD

Ok, so I have come to the really quite obvious conclusion that I have no practical worth whatsoever as a human being. I mean, I’m an interesting decorative piece, and like to think that I have a reasonable level of amusement value and all - in this frivolous era of contented capitalism - but in the harsh post-apocalyptic world, I’d be a bit of a nuisance really.

I am a massive fan of doomsday scenarios. One of my favourite morbid daydreams is to imagine what would transpire if word came of our impending annihilation at the hands of some nuke-wielding misanthrope. If, in such an instance, our doomed society had the time and werewithal to organise bunkers at the grassroots level, I don’t think I’d be terribly high on the list of “post-nuclear desirables” – those chosen few ushered into relative safety underground to ensure that the human race survives.

I’m thinking that the competition to be one of those “chosen few” selected to escape certain death and re-build society would be fierce. And, frankly speaking, I’m not too sure that my CV would stand up to much scrutiny if called upon to save the human race. I mean, I was never even a Girl Guide, and know next to nothing about agriculture, medicine, engineering or architecture. Nor can I sing, dance or play an instrument.

In addition, more functional skills such as basic first aid, cooking, sewing and building things are definitely not my forte.

Having said that, I do know a lot about essentially useless things like feminist theory, literature, marketing, music and pop culture in general. Not much good in the bunker, I’m afraid. I’d just be a depressing reminder of life before the bomb. And no doubt I’d get beaten up for the marketing stuff and feminist ranting anyway.

Having said that, here is a list of all the essential qualities I would have to offer my bunker buddies, in our time of mutually-assured doom.

* I am a healthy female with reproductive fertility, loose morals and low standards.

* I can dig holes. Well, I haven’t dug a hole since Year 9 agriculture, but I reckon I can still remember how it’s done. Though I’d have to outlive environmental radiation to impress everyone with that particular skill.

* I can write satirical commentaries on post-apocalypic life - though not many laughs in that, one would assume. Wholly dependent on the existence of stationery, of course.

* I can recite all the words to Vanilla Ice’s “Ice Ice Baby” and “Bust a Move” by Young MC. As "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey" by Homer were to the Ancient Greeks, so will these two modern masterpieces become the basis for a new post-apocalytic oral tradition. The hero's epic struggle to get a root in Young MC's in "Bust a Move", echoes the themes of the Iliad, which is based on a couple of cities warring over some slag called Helen, because there a couple of blokes who both want to shag her. Vanilla Ice's narrative of rolling the streets of LA in his 5.0 with the rag-top down so his hair can blow, looking for ho's is very similar to the epic journey of Odysseus, in his quest to kill his father and fuck his mother. Or something... Wait, no that's a song by The Doors. In the bunker, it won't matter anyway.

* I have excellent delegation skills when it comes to allocating general chores. My fair and precise managerial techniques will be sorely needed in the bunker, to stave off riotous anarchy.

* I am quite content to sit around doing nothing for very long periods of time. Hence I would engender no restless boredom amongst my fellow castaways during the lengthy period of our enforced seclusion.

* I don’t take up a lot of space, physically. Though I do eat a lot for my size and talk very loudly. Maybe not so desirable in confined spaces with limited resources.

* I don’t believe in God, and could thus reassure my spiritually shattered bunker buddies as to the true nature of divinity. Given time, I could eventually convince them that I was their only worthwhile object of worship. Everybody needs to have faith in something. I am loving, benevolent and capricious. But I can also be vengeful, unforgiving and judgemental. The transition will no doubt be fairly seamless.

And that, essentially, is it. I think I’ve found my niche. Having soundly established the fact that I couldn’t possibly serve any practical function in terms of basic survival, within the post-apocalyptic confines of the bunker - with no escape or retreat - the Goddess cult of Mellipop will thus be born.

So worship me or die, my pretties, for the end is nigh….