As the last vestiges of infrastructure finally collapsed today in the snowy desolation formerly known as Great Britain, the first polar bears arrived to chase down and eat the few huddled survivors of the nightmarish end of civilisation.
Ice rafts, floating up Britain's estuaries on the incoming tides and bearing the relentless Arctic predators, were sighted by scattered bands of foraging Subaru drivers as they hunted desperately amid the drifting snows, chasing rumours of a mythical supermarket with remaining stocks of sliced bread.
"Once they get a whiff of human being, you're as good as dead," moaned a haggard, frostbitten woman who used to be a teacher until the nation's schools were crushed by the encroaching glaciers. "I've tried masking my deliciously meaty scent by emptying a bottle of Davidoff Cool Water for Women over myself, but that fuzzy bastard seems to be gaining on me all the same."
In the barren wastelands of London, tusk-wielding Labour backbenchers holed up in the Palace of Westminster - now visible only by the clockface of Big Ben poking forlornly out of a mountain of snow - mounted a desperate challenge to the authority of hapless tribal chieftain Gordon the Brown, in a last-ditch attempt to propitiate the Wendigo, the mysterious wind-walking god whose anger has all but extirpated their tribe from the face of their once green and pleasant land, with a blood sacrifice.
Meanwhile, Islam4UK reasserted its intention to hold a trek across the mile-thick ice-sheet covering Wootton Bassett to raise awareness of the terrible plight of Muslims in warm countries, despite the threat of being killed and eaten by a rival EDL hunting party.
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