If only I'd known about it earlier, I could have said to prettiest woman at hand, "Quick let's have sex, the world's about to end".

There is this lovely poem by Roger McGough on the subject:


At Lunchtime

When the bus stopped suddenly
To avoid damaging
A mother and child in the road
The young lady in the green hat sitting opposite
Was thrown across me
And not being one to miss an opportunity
I started to make love

At first, she resisted
Saying that it was too early in the morning
And too soon after breakfast
And anyway, she found me repulsive
But when I explained
That this being a nuclear age
The world was going to end at lunchtime
She took off her green hat
Put her bus ticket into her pocket
And joined in the exercise

The bus people
And there were many of them
Were shocked and surprised
And amused and annoyed
But when word got around
That the world was going to end at lunchtime
They put their pride in their pockets
With their bus tickets
And made love one with the other
And even the bus conductor
Feeling left out
Climbed into the cab
And struck up some sort of relationship with the driver

That night
On the bus coming home
We were all a little embarrassed
Especially me and the young lady in the green hat
And we all started to say
In different ways
How hasty and foolish we had been
But then, always having been a bit of a lad
I stood up and said it was a pity
That the world didn't nearly end every lunchtime
And that we could always pretend
And then it happened

Quick as a crash
We all changed partners
And soon the bus was aquiver
With white, mothball bodies doing naughty things

And the next day
And every day
In every bus
In every street
In every town
In every country

People pretended
That the world was coming to an end at lunchtime
It still hasn't
Although in a way it has