Hello, everybunny.

Unless a hitherto-undetected moon-sized meteorite strikes while I'm sleeping, the world has not come to an end today after all, just like it hasn't the last seventeen times an end date has been provided to us. And nobody with any sense (or indeed rudimentary knowledge of the Mayan calendar) believed it ever would, so there's obviously no need for anyone to make any more far-fetched predictions. Or it could happen on Sunday.

In honour of the occasion, have a brutally indecipherable French DOS game - don't ask me what's going on, I only ever worked out that it was about punching an archaeologist and then driving a jeep over a cliff.



But I mention this particularly because I so clearly remember first reading about it in Horrible Histories (it may have been The Angry Aztecs mentioning the Maya in passing) and thinking how far off and unimaginable a date it was... and now we're here. If you'd told me then just how many things would happen in my life between now and then, I'd never have believed you.

And if you'd mentioned that at this time I'd be so looking forward to reprising the role of a genocidal partridge in a game about dating pigeons, I'd have assumed you were mad.

I'm not entirely sure I'm not.