I have to admit, I am a trifle worried that something unsavoury, something worryingly nasty and potentially very smelly may be hovering sinisterly over us. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls; rabbits, badgers and squirrels. I fear the end is nigh. I can't really explain why, nor can I put any of my fingers on it, but I am adamant that something incredibly hideous approaches.

If my premonitions are to be in any way significant, and reflective of what is about to happen, then I feel I should ready myself for what is surely about to happen in the most efficient way possible. I must prepare for the worst, the most fiendishly gruesome and indeed every potentially bad situation. I'll be back in an hour or so.

Right, I think I'm all set. The bunker has been stocked up with food, family members, several litres of moonshine and a couple of small, dog-like creatures should we get a bit peckish. Only kidding, they're family pets, it's alright you can calm down. We should be absolutely fine. I've even managed to procure a list of telephone numbers for post-apocalyptic takeaway services, so we should be covered whatever should occur.

I've kitted myself out in the most rugged of apparel just in case I have to undertake any affairs outside of the bunker - there's my granddad's old army gear for the top an the bottoms, a fireman's hat to protect my noggin and, oh, bugger. I'm wearing a pair of canvas pumps. I might as well be wearing a couple of sheets of toilet paper. Something needs to be done, and mightily fast too.

I've just had a look on a few online sites, and I've spotted a pair of Timberland Boots that seem to be just about as rugged as a pair of boots could ever really be. They're called the premium classic, I think I've seen them before, and I'm pretty sure these are the chaps to round off my ensemble. I haven't managed to find out whether or not they can withstand partial submergence in potentially radioactive gloop, but I'm fairly sure that they would be more than up to the task.

I think I'm going to give them a go, I've actually always been a fan of Timberland Boots, so I know they'll be comfortable and supportive and that they'll fit like a glove. These are all important things to bear in mind when you're potentially going t be wearing the same pair of shoes for the rest of time. That is until you discover that you can fashion a cracking pair of boots from the skin of a dead politician and the rubber from a car tyre.

I suppose its good to know that, even with the impeding gloom and doom that only some kind of earth-threateningly gruesome disaster can bring, one can still find solace in a little bit of good old retail therapy. All I've got to do now is wait for my new Timberland Boots to turn up and then I'm pretty much good to go. I've managed to get them sent out on a pre 9am service, so assuming that the impending disaster is polite and decent enough to wait until the weekend I should be fine.

You know what; I'm actually quite looking forward to whatever might happen now. An hour or so ago I was unable to leave the house without wearing a nappy, yet I now feel confident that I'm going to be absolutely safe and that everything will be just fine. And it's all thanks to the pair of Timberland Boots that should be arriving bright and early tomorrow morning.