Who better to cast their eye on the coming year(s) than Trigger Warning's resident dead medium, Doris Stokes? With her unique and racist view of world events from her perch at God's side, Doris looks to the future and puts the kettle on.
The Middle East
Ooh, it’s a right palaver, isn’t it, love? I think it’s the heat – they all need proper hats and plenty of tea. None of that foreign muck. What I can tell you is this – I were speaking to a holy man about this this, right holy he was, and he said:
“War is stupid and people are stupid and love means nothing in some strange quarters”
Strange quarters you see. Odd ‘uns. He did tell me summat else – Israel won’t keep their capital in Jerusalem, too daft. Somewhere neutral he reckons, stop all’t fighting and that. “Where did you say, love?” Tehran he says, love. Mark me and think on.
It’s a lot of fuss, love, a lot of fuss. I’ve no time for politics me. Mind, I’ve no time for foreigners either – I don’t like change. You know when we were happiest? Big war. Proper one in’t 40’s. Everyone knew where they stood, proper men who’d beat you senseless and proper wives who were idiots. I was never more of an idiot than back then and I loved it. Bomb ‘em, I say. Bloody big bomb’ll sort ‘em out. Gypsies, love, they’re all bloody gypsies.
He wants to build a wall, love, did you know? You don’t hear much about Red Indians nowadays but he’s right – stealing their cows and pissing about, it’s not on. I can see a vision of a big waterfall, love...but it’s not made of water, it’s made of hessian. What do you think that means, love? I’m just going to have a sit down, I’m feeling a bit bilious.
The Natural World
I’m glad you asked love. Where would you be without the world? It makes you think. Floating about like lamb n green peas, it’d just be silly, love. We’ll run out of rocks in the year 2019 – start saving ‘em up, they’ll be worth a fortune. I can see big volcanoes in Huddersfield and round Batley, I’d steer clear of there til it’s not as hot. Great plagues of woodlice and they’ll find a new kind of massive fish with eyebrows. Not in Huddersfield and Batley, love, don’t be bloody stupid.
Do you want the good news or the bad news, love? I’m scared to tell thee to be honest. Let me put it this way – do you take comfort from the thought of the flesh being stripped from yer bones and yer innards splashed with vinegar? The restless dead, love, untamed they are. I don’t know where they get the vinegar from – maybe it’s not vinegar but it smarts summat rotten. And we’ll find life on Mars too, but it’s very boring, it’s just germs and that. All that money. End of the world? 1992, love. Mark me and think on.