There was once a civilisation that existed a long time ago in a galaxy which was, while not as far away as some, still pretty far away in galactic terms. This civilisation was very much like the one we have now, except that the TV was still in black and white and 'Pets Win Prizes' hadn't yet been axed.

The chief religion of this world was called Terrorism. It fervently believed in a set of ancient writings which detailed the second coming of the great god Terror, who walked the Earth in human form two thousand years before these events. The writings foretold that, on the day that Terror returned, a rain of fire would fall from the sky and destroy all the evil in the world, the seas would turn into milk, and Terror would descend from the skies to begin one hundred years of peace and tranquillity, followed by one hundred years of war.

One day, Terror did return.

The morning before he turned up, the first prophecy came true. Although thanks in part to mistranslation and popular misunderstanding of the related texts, it was not what was expected. A rain of tyres fell from the sky. Every kind of tyre you could imagine, from slim bicycle tyres to gigantic tractor tyres, descended from the sky. And as they fell, the town of Yeovil was utterly destroyed.

That afternoon, the seas began to transform. The first man to notice was a fisherman a few miles off the coast of the principle nation. One moment the engine on his little boat was effortlessly pushing him through the cool blue waters, the next it was being clogged up with Philadelphia cream cheese. The fate of the marine life is uncertain, although one suspects they would have been absolutely delicious.

That evening, Terror appeared to an assembled mass of his followers who were waiting around the slopes of the biggest green hill in the land. He seemed quite bewildered when people addressed him as Terror, and insisted they use his real name, which was Terry.

"Oh great Terry," said the High Priest, feeling stupid. "We have awaited your return for many thousands of years. What have you to say to us?"

"Be excellent to each other," said Terry, holding his arms aloft.

"And now, is it time for the hundred years of peace and tranquillity?" asked the High Priest.

"One hundred YEARS?" said Terry, bewildered. "I'm afraid you misheard. I promised you one hundred SECONDS."

With that, Terry waved his hands, and vanished.

For the first second, nobody had anything to say. Then someone near the back of the million-strong crowd said, "When do they start?"

From seconds 1-2, the crowd, as one, wondered about this.

At second 2, the same man who called out on second 15 noticed that a flower was blooming next to his foot at an alarming rate.

From 2-5, the crowd fearfully noticed that flowers were growing all around, flowers of all shape and colour, swaying gently in the breeze. The gentle sound of a harp with no apparent origin drifted over them.

On second 6, a small child laughed with joy as petals rained around her rosy cheeks. From that point on, the rest of the crowd became more relaxed with their new surroundings.

Between second 6 and the next major event at second 17, the pollution clouds in the sky melted away, the seas turned into fresh water, and a large variety of furry creatures emerged from various forests to rub up against the legs of the people, purring affectionately. A few people were thrown when the grizzly bears did the same, but animosity soon became adoration.

On 17, the first flower was woven inexpertly into someone's hairdo.

On 21, the first joint was rolled.

By 39, the people of the world had all removed their shoes and socks, loosened their ties, undone their top buttons, and were lolling around in the grass with their arms around each other, singing songs of stoned platitude.

On second 47, the last man to wear a tie around his neck gave in to peer pressure and tied it around his head.

From 47 to 55 those who were particularly open-minded had removed their clothes and were making gentle love to each other under the trees. Those too old or too feeble to take part simply sat and watched, occasionally shouting advice.

On 55, it was decided to bring some organisation to the festivities. From then through to 69 a new government was formed democratically, each member being a representative of their social group. They decided that all the fruit growing on the new trees would be shared equally among the populace, although nobody noticed this decision, as they were all busy shagging.

On 75, the post-coital masses pulled themselves together, put their clothes back on, and sat around avoiding each other's gaze with big smiles on their faces.

From 75 to 95, the people made mad passionate conversation, mainly along the lines of how marvellous the world was these days.

From 95 to 100, a few people began looking fearfully at their watches.

Nobody noticed the passing of second 100.

On second 101, someone stood on someone else's foot.

102 to 107 mainly consisted of the man whose foot was stood on hopping around and waving his arms.

On 108, the man who stood on the other man's foot apologised.

On 109, the other man refused to accept the apology, as he strongly suspected that something was broken.

On 110, the first man said that there clearly wasn't anything broken, what with him hopping around on it and everything, and the second man was being a crybaby twat.

111-114: Shocked silence.

115-120: Rumours of the fight spread around the hill. Anxious for some action after all that boring peace, a huge crowd gradually formed around the two men.

On 120, the aforementioned crybaby twat bloodied the first man's nose.

On 123, the crybaby twat was sucker-punched in the stomach.

The fight continued from 123 onwards, and it would be pointless to continue detailing each individual blow. At 129, the first bet was placed.

By 135, everyone had wagered money on one of the participants. They surrounded the battle, cheering on their chosen combatant.

At 140, the assembled crowd divided into two factions: the Brotherhood of the Man Who Stood On The Other Man's Foot, and the Holy Church Of The Crybaby Twat. The two groups began to show deep resentment for each other.

At 145, a small rock was thrown from the Holy Church and knocked out one of the taller members of the Brotherhood. By 157, several more rocks had been thrown.

On 169, the government were asked to make a statement on which of the two factions they favoured. The statement was read out in the time between 172 and 179, and made it clear that the government would come down against whichever side could be said to have 'started it'.

Believing that the government was talking about them, the Brotherhood made a pre-emptive strike on 183, took down the seat of power on 187, and left the green hill in a state of delicious anarchy on 192.

From 192 to 199, a battle royale turned the crowd into a heaving, churning mass of fighting bodies, each determined to stand up for their cause. Enough eyes were blackened that day to fill a good-sized skip.

On 199, someone elbowed a six year old girl in the face. Said girl began loudly screaming and crying.

On 200, the elbower apologised profusely and promised he would buy the girl a lolly.

On 201, the girl said she didn't want a lolly, and ran off home to tell her dad.

On 202, the girl's dad arrived and told everyone off for being a bunch of violent gits.

On 203, everyone went home, avoiding each other's gaze.

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