Sunday, July 15, 2012


(pictured above: a pretentious wormhole speaking French)

I made a wormhole in time. If you jump through it you go back in time and arrive at the moment it was created, that's how wormholes work. For example, if you made one now and left it for a week and then went through it, you would arrive at the point of its creation the week before. You could go down the bookies and put some money on horses you've already seen winning. Of course, if that happened you'd already have the winnings before you jumped through because that would have already happened. It's all paradoxical this time travel. Things can get tricky. 'Fuck it', I said to myself, 'let's just see how it pans out' and I jumped straight through.

I jumped through the wormhole and arrived when it was made, which was just a second before so I only arrived to see myself jumping through. So, I left it a day. Then I went through the wormhole again and met myself watching myself jumping through. Then I turned to myself and asked myself what's going to happen tomorrow and I said 'not much' and another me was there too, having come through the wormhole at the same time as me. The third me was old and had a big grey beard and a walking stick. He looked at the other two mes (including me) and said 'the next few decades are going to be a bit shite though'. Then a heap of other mes of all different ages and stages of decrepitude popped up and they said 'he's not wrong lads'.

To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure which me is writing this blog post. We're all here now. All from the future, living in the present, and blogging about the past. The only chronological direction open to us is forward, unless we jump through the wormhole again and that wouldn't be a good idea because this room is full enough as it is and I'm getting sick of my own company. Is this what my friends and family have had to put with all this time? Jesus. I mean, I'm beginning to bug myself so much I'm thinking of requesting a restraining order against myself to get me off my own back. Although, there were times I was considering doing that before I even made the wormhole.

Could be worse though. Imagine it was Ryan Tubridy went jumping through the wormhole over and over and over. The room would be full of Tubridys babbling away, interviewing himself and getting nervous and fidgeting with the cue cards. Fidgeting, fidgeting, fidgeting. What pocket of Hell would that be to come across?

1 comment:

Papa Hotel said...

Ah brilliant, wormholes are deadly. I did a spot of time tourism there the other week, took a wormhole back to the mid-80's. Tried to book a spa weekend while I was there. Turned out to mean something very different. I'm not sure there's much money to be made in time travel but I may investigate the potential for a time traveller's phrase book. Could be a little earner!