An American star science guy has warned that the big moon on the night of 19 March is an “extreme super moon,” which is likely to disrupt everything, destroy the world and/or kill the lot of us.
Now, hold up there now, mister.
You may have your theories and evidence, but I’m rarely influenced by things as convincing as that. I have always found myself much more persuaded by the look in one’s eyes when he’s talking bullshit to me. So I got in contact with my close personal go-to astrologer, Mystical Mitchel. He explained to me that the best advice I can offer you is to make sure you’ve stocked on necessities: water, brie and bread, a few bottles of red, a lover or two and a camera (unlike unusual suns, you can look directly into the moon—in fact, I encourage you to look at nothing but the moon until 6am Sunday as doing so will make the drunken, bloated sex that much easier to tolerate).
There have been plenty of horrible things happening in the world and there will be more. But celestial bodies—big or small—aren’t worrying me. The moon may control werewolves, women’s menses and David Icke, but most of the shit that happens is probably man-made, I’m afraid.
Everyone Needs an Algonquin 
I’m playing bass for a punk band and tonight (march 19th) is our first real show. Being a lunatic, I plan to use the lunar energy to superpower our supermoon show and hoping that it brings supergroupies.
I wish you much superluck. I am sure the power of punk will help you dominate the stage, with or without any lunar manipulation of you or our planet.
Re: supergroupies–just be careful now. I’ve had to deal with a few of these myself: they’re entertaining for a while but begin to grate on your nerves relatively quickly. Here’s a quick suggestion: anyone who introduces you to their lawyer before you’ve even shared a kiss is probably not worth it.
Yours,
Agatha
In relation to this impending perigee, I decided to follow the example of the more colourful fringe element of your compatriots and stocked up with 6 AK 47’s, 5 handguns, a bazooka, an anti-tank missile launcher, 64 cans of baked beans, an inflatable dinghy, two cases of Chateau Lafite-Rothschild, Pauillac 2006, a crate of Bollinger, a crate of Robinson’s Old Tom, a box of dynamite, the Collected Works of John Betjeman, cds of Gorecki’s 3rd symphony and complete works of Scott Walker (who, uncannily, sings of the moon, standing still,) 200 condoms, 25 bars of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk and 50 kilos of potatoes. What I’m asking your advice about now, considering the event is over and nothing apocalyptic has occurred, is, do you think I will be able to shift 63 cans of baked beans, 49 kilos of potatoes and a six pack of condoms on Ebay?
Very impressed with the level of your consumption of your other items, though I’m not sure I want to know the role the dinghy played in the whole fiasco.
I suggest donating the food and condoms to charity, Lembit Opik or a gaggle of Girl Guides. Do NOT attempt to sell the condoms on eBay. There’s a little known clause in the seller’s agreement that decrees should a pregnancy result, the purchaser can legally hold you responsible, which means a marriage or child maintenance costs will be a part of your future. At least, then you’d have evidence of something disastrous to blame on the supermoon.
Yours,
Agatha