I think it's important to understand the people who, very soon now, will be all that remains of humanity. Survival bunkers will be strictly for our elites. Done out like the inside of the Titanic, these heavily guarded bases will be the centre of efforts to repopulate the planet. That's why wealthy older men have always been involved in beauty pageants: they've been sourcing breeding stock. While we're watching irradiated skin layers tumbleweed down the road like somersaulting ghosts, they'll be inside a hollow mountain, banging away on a mattress the size of the pitch at Wembley. The likes of Sepp Blatter and Richard Branson, their arthritic bones creaking like an armada as they are repeatedly raised and lowered on a harness onto a lobotomised beauty queen. As we mere citizens turn our lidless eyes to a charred pamphlet on how to fashion fallout-proof door seals from wet newspaper, our overlords will be having a genetic contribution the consistency of Dairylea milked from them with a double-handed action more commonly associated with wringing out a wet flannel, Rupert Murdoch's wrinkled cum face like a balloon that you'd find in a dead pensioner's flat.
Excuse my venom, but I hate it when you're expecting an invitation to something and it doesn't turn up.
—Frankie Boyle, New World Order 2017
They're only giving tickets out to the wealthy! What about us?!
— Lamentian mother, Loki (2021), "Lamentis"
