In the beginning was the word and it was good, then all sorts of crazy s**t happened most of it was not nearly as good as the word, but because nobody could remember just how good the word really was it didn’t seem to matter that much.

And so human Civilisation found herself emerging into the twenty first century rubbing the sleep from her eyes and generally trying to figure out where the traffic cone had come from. The traffic cone in question was not one of your every day ordinary traffic cones, the ones you can find on any street in the developed world, but one of those really big motorway ones, the ones with the little flashing light on top which you spend all day trying to switch on and then spend all night trying to switch off. Having contemplated the traffic cone for some minutes Civilisation’s head started to hurt and she promptly went back to sleep.

Just before lunchtime Civilisation’s flatmate brought her a coffee smiled sweetly and took the traffic cone away. Civilisation was starting to feel a little better and tried to sit up and drink her coffee, big (I mean B-I-G) mistake as she lifted her head from the pillow the cannon ball which was rolling around inside her head smashed into the back of her face so she lay back down again as quickly as possible and let the cannon ball roll back into place behind her brain.

At teatime Civilisation’s flat mate popped her head round the door again, she took away the cold coffee and went back to the kitchen to peal some potatoes for supper.

It was getting dark outside when Civilisations flatmate came back, this time she carried a cup of tea and greeted the sight of Civilisation sitting up in bed with the cheery words “Christ you look like s**t.

As the words drilled into Civilisations head she looked up, waited for the cannon ball to settle back to the base of her skull, reached out for the cup of tea, she then promptly spilt most of it on the duvet but eventually managed to get at least half a mouthful to her lips. “What the hell was I drinking last night?” the words tumbled from Civilisations mouth along with what little tea hadn’t been yet been absorbed by the fine coating of fur which at colonised much of her tongue, the roof of her mouth and was right now making a serious play for her throat as well.

“Don’t you remember?” Civilisation’s flatmate reached for the tea cup just as Civilisation emptied the remainder of it’s contents onto her pillow. “You won”.

“Errghh ” Civilisation’s head was starting to hurt again and she could feel the cannon ball preparing to fling itself against the top of her head in an effort to break free.

“You went out to celebrate because you won” Civilisation’s flatmate sat down on the edge of the bed took a deep breath and continued “you reached the end, you achieved global roll out of liberal capitalism and democratic tyranny, there is nowhere else to invent and nothing left to achieve, you won.”

“Errrrgghhhh”

“It was a bit hairy back there in the sixties when it looked like you might get stuck in some sort of socialist freedom loop, but you came through, you did well when you got capitalism back on top” Civilisation’s flatmate stood up and walked towards the door, as her hand reached out for the knob she looked back at Civilisation and added “and then when you gave up freedom for democracy you had nothing left to achieve, you reached the end of history. You Won”.

Civilisation’s head thudded back against her pillow, the cannonball smashed through the top of her head and rolled off the end of the bed before skidding to a halt near the wardrobe, Civilisation shut her eyes and went back to sleep.