I think I am officially slipping across the line into tinhattery, here.

QI 3x06, General Ignorance round:

Stephen Fry: "Why shouldn't I strip Alan naked and - *pauses, visibly swallows words* - cover him with gold paint?"

To anyone who reads this: my last known location is the Electric Dragon internet café in Blackrock Market. There's still food here - prepacked sandwiches, Nutrigrain bars, muffins, etc. - that'll be edible for a while longer, and a drinks vending machine I've opened up. I'm going to leave the barricades in place when I go; it's below ground, with a narrow access stairway, and defensible. I will also leave behind me a hockey bag full of golf clubs - they're too heavy for me to move fast with. If you should read this, or find them, they're yours, and I wish you luck.

(If you're out there at all, hah. The connection here is rough - most of the landlines are down. I can't access hardly anything with images, so news sites and my friendslist are right out. I have no way of knowing if there's anyone left alive in the country. For all I know, it's just me, the axe from the garden shed, and my granddad's old dress sword. At least the British army was good for something, eh? They're gone now, along with everything east of this landmass, I should say.)

I'm heading for Dún Laoghaire harbour. If anyone else is left, they may have had the same idea - together, we might manage to take a boat out. We will wait as long as possible. If I can't find any escape there, I'll leave some sort of sign, and try and find something along the Liffey quays.

I haven't seen anyone alive in days. There's no television, no radio, no phones. I was lucky to find this place. All I can do now is keep fighting, keep running, and pray that whatever this is, it hasn't made it to the States yet.

Catch me if you can.

Godspeed.