T H E  A M P  D I A R Y

END OF THE WORLD DINNER PARTY
Thursday 20 September 2001



Kathleen Hanna, Cynthia Heimel, The Bust Girls, Julie Burchill, Camille Paglia and 1969-era Germaine Greer are sprawled on velvet sofas in the girls-loo / dressing-room area. They are eating grapes and caviar, vituperating, dismissing, laughing, bitching to the sound of a live set played by Motorhead, Bananarama, The Smiths and Schneider TM. Over the course of the evening various individuals from this group of fems will storm out, furious, and go and play with--

Adam and Joe, who, in the corner of the gold-swagged banqueting hall, are re-enacting last week's disaster with Lego towers, Star Wars rockets and a knitted Bin Laden with a hat made of toilet-roll and a beard made from the snipped pubes of Elvis, The King of Rock'n'Roll, an item which Joe aquired on e-bay the day before all the computers broke forever. Meanwhile--

Louis Theroux is running around clad only in a loincloth, making a documentary (his camera running on the last batteries left on earth) that will never be shown about this evening's events, stopping only to make beautiful love to me and then to--

Jamie Oliver, who has of course provided tonight's feast. Every course contains either vodka or brandy and, just like in Jilly Cooper's The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous, next to every place setting is an ecstacy pill (1992-era Doves, beautiful and pure) and a condom. However, for once the condoms are unneccessary, as pregnancy and AIDS hold no fear for us tonight.

Instead, we blow the condoms up and tie messages to them, and fling them from the windows. I know that these messages will reach you at the exact same second as a message from you flies inside from the window.

The message, decorated with little kisses, is ink-smudged and tear-stained. I clutch it to my heart. The lights fade to black. I hug Daisy and Tim from Spaced. Tim's hair is spiky and smells sweetly of gel and mousse and peroxide
and chemicals that are no longer made, here on this dying Earth.Daisy's hug is fleshy, warm. The message rubs against my skin with a comfortable itch. There is a flash, then heat. And that's all I can remember.





previous
+ next