There’s a couple of things I learnt tonight, travelling home on the train from Leeds after ten at night. The first is that you really do see everything life has to offer on public transport after a certain time – everything from people still working, to small people dressed like mini-Fifty Cents, or Fiddies as they’re probably known – a cross, of course, between the rapper and a child.
The other thing I realised is that I just don’t have enough zombie escape plans.
In that I have none.
Whereas some of my fellow passengers have as many as seventeen plans. Seventeen plans for something that, probably, will never happen. If you applied as much attention to your school work as you did to that you’d probably be able to form more coherent sentences and be less worried about the “coming zombie apocalypse”. Although, technically, it will just be an apocalypse and the zombies will come afterwards. A zombie apocalypse surely means an apocalypse that would wipe out the zombies, which is a good thing and therefore doesn’t need you to have come up with even one plan, let alone seventeen of the bloody things.
And then there’s your friend who is clearly wacky because look at him there, wedged in the luggage rack. He’s got a couple of “well-known” zombie plans and one secret one. He’s gone to the trouble of dreaming up a zombie survival plan and not trusting any of his friends with the information in case they become zombies and try to use their knowledge of his plan against him. He also, curiously, has a plan for if he becomes a zombie.
Which seems to imply that he’s banking on being some kind of intelligent zombie which, based on the evidence provided on the train, isn’t likely to happen.
But I don’t have a zombie plan. I’ve never really had a zombie plan. I mean, I had that plan in the British Museum that one time about what to do if the mummies came alive, but even that fell by the wayside once you realised that if you looked closely at one of the mummies you could see its willy.
Coming up with a zombie survival plan, though, isn’t that easy. I mean there are a lot of parameters to consider – where will I be when this apocalypse happens, for example. Will it be somewhere I am familiar with, or will it be somewhere completely new? Should I – between now and the inevitable moment when the human race turns on itself for, I believe, brains, learn the layout of every town and city I visit in case it happens while I’m there. For example, if the zombie apocalypse happened when I was in Huddersfield I’d be much better placed that if I was in, say Brighouse, where the best I could probably do is slow them down by throwing a multitude of paperback books at them, gathered from all the charity shops.
And with the head count of slow-moving, shambling elderly in Brighouse, would I actually know if the zombie thing had kicked in?