It's the end of the world as we know it.

Some muppet has obviously dug a hole in the wrong part of the road this morning.

There's a major outage in the London telephone system - thousands of 0207 numbers aren't working. Offices have fallen silent.

It's fucking amazing how much work everybody's getting done.

Oh dear god, nooo!!! The unimaginable has happened. Draw the curtains, gather the family near. This is not going to be easy.

Twitter .. is not working.

This is unthinkable. How will we know whether @StephenFry has had his poo today?

How will the lonely, 50-something, lifetime socialist spinster behind the facade of the gorgeous, pouting @BevaniteEllie be able continue to praise the Labour party for everything from making the sun come up this morning to inventing kittens?

How will @oleuanna and @trouserquandry be able to continue their wildly fucking irritating online flirt-a-thon?

How will the poor intern who has to pretend to be @johnprescott manage to dispense gritty pearls of Northern wisdom?

What, in short, will become of Western civilization?

CF couldn't give a flying fuck, frankly.

It's far too hot. Time for a cold beer, and a 'real' conversation with someone in the same room..



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