The Earth is flat. I know this because I have stood on Brighton beach and held up a ruler to the horizon. Yup, flat as a pancake or maybe a pizza, one with melted feta and caramelised onions, case closed. The idea that the Earth is a ball spinning at 1000 miles per hour is clearly ridiculous, as is the myth that bridge builders have to compensate for the curvature of the Earth. They don’t, because the Earth is flat. Prove me wrong, and don’t bother mentioning the view from space, astronauts are all liars, or at best floating minstrels, singing propaganda songs on TV about how rotund the Earth is. In space no one can hear you strum. I wish. I’m not even sure astronauts exist, there seems to be millions of them and yet I’ve never bumped into one in Waitrose. And if the Earth was round wouldn’t it just roll away? Isn’t space meant to be curved? Wouldn’t we just be rolling backwards and forwards, like a golf ball in a sink? The very idea unnerves me and whenever I find something challenging or perturbing I refute it.

Denial is the abiding luxury of the ignorant. Platypus toe shoes for example, there is a version of my life where I may have owned a pair, like having a table tennis bat attached to each of my feet, but I have decreed in my wisdom that, along with brown Birmingham bags with cream pockets, it never happened. Knowledge is limited to what I know, to what like minds decide, that is why the Earth is flat, resting on four giant tins of chopped tomatoes on the back of a humongous robot hoover. It explains why space is a vacuum and bumping into the legs of God’s coffee table accounts for Earthquakes. It’s all very simple really, science is unnecessary and you can’t convince me otherwise, I am that smart and that intractable.

Science holds no mystery for me, everything is open to interpretation. It’s all science fiction, like the interstellar Hawaiian space baguette or the hypothetically possible invisible dark hidden ninth planet. Even at home we are subject to scientific delusions, dinosaurs for example, clearly they are fake because every single one they ‘find’ is made of rock and obviously you can’t have terrible lizards made of rock, I mean how would they walk? Even with a flat Earth it would be nigh on impossible. I suspect that archaeologists are actually frustrated sculptors and instead of finding real dinosaurs they are just carving them out of appropriately shaped stone, a bit like Michelangelo released David from a block of marble, only with even smaller genitals.

Scientists know nothing about the real world. How could they? They spend all their time doing one thing, like working out if a cat can be both a solid and a liquid or why old men have big ears and why identical twins can’t tell themselves apart in a mirror, assuming they aren’t trying to make loo paper out of graphene of course. I know what I’m talking about, my friend Benny’s a scientist, of sorts, he conducts in depth surveys about surveys for a living, which is almost as pointless as the trailers you now get for movie trailers.

No, we multitaskers, we deniers of frippery and fakery are the true visionaries, I myself am on the cusp of entrepreneurial greatness and when my realcoffhairdresstate shop opens (that’s a real estate agents where you can get a latte and a haircut) I will be well placed to win any argument and in so doing, inherit the flat Earth.

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