I’ve been trying to wipe out Madagascar. Don’t let the title mislead you, I haven’t given in to the seductive persuasion of UKIP (ugh, I shudder just typing those words. So maybe as you continue reading this post you’ll start to think that the title doesn’t quite think. However, I needed a j and it kind of sort of seemed to fit just after I thought of it but before I looked up the definition). I’m going after the rest of the world too so perhaps it’s more a case of misanthropy rather than jingoism. But I’m afraid to say that Madagascar is proving to be the tough nut to crack.
Very recently (about four and a half hours ago in fact), I was introduced to a game on the internet where the objective is to slaughter the world’s population by way of introducing a mysterious new illness to the planet. It’s a fun yet frustrating way to pass the time. Who wouldn’t enjoy outmanoeuvring the efforts of the various governments of the world in order to halt the progression of your fatal malady? All of them, that is, but Madagascar. Whether I try to be sneaky and make a slow moving, symptomless disease that will creep as stealthily and silently as possible or an altogether more violent one that will sweep across borders in the blink of an eye, at the merest whisper of a threat of contagion, Madagascar will shut down its shipyards and it’s game over.
So clearly, while the unstoppable behemoth that is Ebola cuts a red haemorrhagic swathe across this blue green marble of ours (it really isn’t, I’ve checked), the smartest, safest thing you can possibly do is up sticks and hot foot it to Madagascar. Meanwhile, I will set myself more achievable goals like decimating a billion people in less than a month.