Now, to business. Brethren, Sistren, I am leaving the bunker. The time has come for me to return to the world, and to the mission of the Church of Chris Martin. While the True Widow’s protestations have not been ignored, the decisive factor arrived this morning, when I received the following letter -
Whilst I feel glad that the world has not ended, I do feel disappointed to be proven wrong. I had hoped that I would become the only broadcaster left on earth, firing polemical broadsides from my bunker laptop. Instead, I was a fat man in a cellar for a month with brick dust in my hair. Not only that, but the housing market seems to be on the way back up.
So what have I learned? I learned that rats may seem pleasant when you’re awake, but they’ll try to eat your eyes as soon as you fall asleep. I learned that internet pornography is the surest way of catching a computer virus. And I learned that man can survive on beans alone, but he better have a well-ventilated house.
Above all, I learned that hope is the greatest gift we have. Except language. And maybe music.
I have now been in the basement for more than a week. I have not seen sunlight in this time, and while Alex Jones and Coldplay continue to soothe my troubled soul, I am growing extremely tired of Level 42’s Greatest Hits - which I have come to realise, were there any accuracy in the world, it be a CD single.
According to Rapture Ready, Armageddon is closer than ever, but all anyone seems concerned about is some insane antisemite octogenarian who thought he was back in the trenches for a moment.
Yet I have had much time for analysing Chris’s lyrics, and it does seem that he predicted the present parousia:
Can’t you feel it coming? Can’t you hear that sound? (Gravity)
How long must we wait for it?(In My Face) - Not long now!
I want to live in a wooden house(We Never Change) - Maybe he’ll get his wish soon!
And there are many more. But listening again to Viva la Vida and Prospekt’s March, I was struch by how many of the songs from those sessions concern a post-apocalyptic world:
Smoke is rising from the houses
People burying their dead(Prospekt’s March)
Then there was rain
The sound foundations are crumbling
Through the ground comes a bit of a-tumbling (Rainy Day)
There’s a cold war coming
On the radio I heard
Baby it’s a violent world(Life in Technicolor II)
From the windows they were watching
While we froze down below
When the future’s architectured
By a carnival of idiots on show
You’d better lie low (Violet Hill)
We get a picture of a world where it is dark and raining permanently (perhaps Gotham City?). The good survivors huddle on rooftops or in alleyways when not burying the dead, and the baddies - the Catholics, the Bankers, the Scientologists and Coldplaying.com - watch them through surveilance cameras. Time seems to have come unstuck. Is the tribulation immanent, or is the tribulation always immanent, waiting until humanity falls asleep and time becomes soft enough for it to become manifest?:
Time came a-creepin’
Oh and time’s a loaded gun
Every road is a ray of light
It goes o-o-on (Life in Technicolor II)
And time was just floating away
We can watch it and stay (Rainy Day)
I ask somebody what the time is
But time doesn’t matter to them yet (Prospekt’s March)
Yet Chris’s role in this is clear in the repeated phrase which signifies his acceptance of his Holy Office - “Now my feet don’t touch the ground”:
I could hear it coming
Like a serenade of sound
Now my feet won’t touch the ground (Life in Technicolor II)
Now my head won’t stop
You wait a lifetime to be found
Now my feet won’t touch the ground (Now my feet won’t touch the ground)
Cold, cold water, bring me round
Now my feet won’t touch the ground(Strawberry Swing)
That’s all for now. I have to go and eat my can of beans and mini sausages before it gets dark. That’s when the rats come out.
And that doesn’t even matter! Even the ever-reliable Fox News says it’s ALL OVER!
Not only that, but it seems that the accursed Coldplaying.com have CURSED Coldplay’s current tour - causing Chris to burn himself and the rains to come every night - in an attempt to discredit and divide the Righteous Church of Chris Martin.
The reason that things have been so quiet around here of late is that I have been converting a corner of my cellar into a bunker - not easy, due to my disability (acute corpulence). I’ve got a mattress, a camp stove and a bunch of weapons, and I’m going out this afternoon to stock up on bottled water and canned food. I’ve fixed it so I can get the internet down there, so I can continue to report the coming apocalypse, direct from my trusty laptop to the world, via thechurchofchrismartin.com!
I’m going to have lots of free time, however, and as Alex Jones only broadcasts four hours a day, I intend to devote much of the coming days to an in-depth scouring of Chris’s lyrics, looking for clues about the coming apocalypse and how humanity is going to survive it.
Chris - nobody said it would be easy, but now is the time to fix us. Yet we know that the Last Days are upon us, the Third Gospel, the Gospel of Truth, or X&Y having been revealed, that the rapture must be upon us soon. The signs are there. It is as foretold. IT’S TIME FOR CHRIS! COME ON, CHRIS! SORT STUFF OUT!
Day 10