Yay, the final days are upon us, the voice has spoken unto me.

He sayeth "Ned, me old mate, always thought you were a top bloke. Just thought I'd better tell you - think I'm gonna pull the plug soon on this whole world bollocks, so for a cult to get yourself some birds, booze, psychedelics and records. Then all dance naked and high until I start the fireworks. Peace mate."

And who am I to argue with the supreme being who gave us life, light, lager and les dennis?

It makes sense. All my life people have been calling me a cult. Everytime I stagger down to the shops, the local kids yell "Oi! Cult".

I bet people used to shout that at Jesus. Actually, I know what he had to put up with. There's a kid in our basement from the holy land and he keeps dancing in the garden in his mothers clothes singing songs from the musicals.

So come on, children. Take off your clothes and sit down on my sofas (put some newspaper down first though) and let's party. Unless you really are children, because that'd be weird. 16 and over please.