So then God created the world
and on the first day he created light and air and fish
and jam and soup and potatoes
and haircuts and arguments
and small things
and rabbits and people with noses
and jam, more jam, perhaps, and, er,
and soot and flies and tobogganing
and showers and toasters
and grandmothers
and Belgium.
And
the second day he created fire
and water and eggnog and radiators
and lights and Burma
and things that go “urh”
and… and Colonel Gaddafi
and Arthur Negus.
On the third day he probably
got lists and said,
“I can’t remember what I’ve invented now.
I’ve just been ad-libbing so far.”
And so everything built up through the days. You know how if you’ve got a deadline,
everything builds up. On the seventh day God was in a panic,
“Oh, what haven’t I…? Rwanda, better create Rwanda.
Oh, sorry, haven’t quite done that. The Tower of Pisa. It’s leaning, oh, damn. Toilets in French camping sites,
there we go. English football hooligans, whatever that is. Mrs Thatcher’s heart. There we… Oh, fuck that.
“I’ll put a stone in, that’ll work. There we go.”
The next week people are coming back going,
“Rwanda doesn’t work very well. The infrastructure is fucked.”
“I’m terribly sorry, I’ll put some more jam here. And… And a mountain of cabbages and a radiator.”
“Thank you, that’s just what we wanted.”
