Once upon a time, women worked out how to make their own sperm using nothing more than a washing up bottle, sticky back plastic and a sieve
Ha! They cried and did away with men. The next day, a world of risk-averse hedge-fund managers sprung up. 24 Series 8 was abandoned.
All wars ended due to lack of interest. Lamborghini went bust. Netball became the most-watched sport. All pupils got straight As.
No more global warming. Giant pandas prolific. Toilet seats never left up. Porn stars kept their clothes on and chatted a lot. And cuddled.
Four months later, the United Nations met and decided everything was just hunky-dory and disbanded. Life was sweet until…
… somewhere in a small market town 25 minutes by train from Waterloo, a fuse went. A house fell into darkness. A scented candle was lit.
Nearby, a DVD recorder stopped working. Less nearby, a new single bed was delivered. But it was unexpectedly flatpacked. And really heavy.
Hair clogged drains. Spiders came out of plug holes. Cars ran out of windscreen-wiper fluid. Privat hedges raged out of control…
… then the UN Secretary General, Sheryl, was driving through France and couldn’t work out how to open the petrol cap. Nor could her staff.
‘Enough,’ she declared when she finally made the meeting. ‘We need men’. And they were reintroduced. And nobody lived girlily ever after