30/03/2012 07:38 BST | Updated 30/05/2012 06:12 BST

Dispatch From the Petrol Line

I have killed a man. I am not proud of this fact. But I had no choice. He looked at my jerry can.

I am Nordus - head of the clan Sexlior. In the old world I was known as 'Keith' and I was a leading sales representative for a firm specialising in industrial corrosives. How I smile when I think back to my previous life. So safe and not completely devoted to slaughter. But that was before the petrol - which is this new world order is known as 'Energex' - vanished.

Well, it didn't vanish as such. There was a vague rumour of a strike by some people (drivers I think or something), a strike that probably won't happen and even if it does, won't effect anything adversely. But that didn't stop a sudden wave of frenzied fuel purchase at my local BP which caused their reserves to dip slightly below the 14000 cubic litre level. And that's why I'm currently naked, brandishing a homemade pike and covered in woad.

I can't really fathom how civilisation crumbled so quickly. I'd noticed that my petrol tank was slightly below the government sanctioned two-thirds mark. I innocently went to top it up and joined the queue of cars waiting to refuel. Then the next thing I knew, rumours of diminishing stocks escalated and suddenly I was out of my car and battling the head of a rival clan in the Thunderdome over a Volvic bottle half-filled with diesel. I was as surprised as anyone.

I won that battle and took up my superior position in the petrol line, my conquest's blood decorating my cheeks. I have taken a new mate, a fine woman with a Fiat Uno and many jerry cans. We will soon repopulate.

Jerry cans are the new established currency in Sexlior. Those without a jerry can are shunned and cast to the wilds of the outer ring-road. They are little more than beasts to us. Their only hope is to vanquish another and take their jerry can. But this is a dangerous endeavour. Many have suffered.

But it is safe in the clan. We hunt in packs, with expeditions to the Wild Bean Café to forage for muffins, Pringles, possibly a Ginsters. This has reduced cannibalism to an acceptable level. I insist that we only eat who we sacrifice.

I did not wish this upon the world. When I left my home three hours ago, I had no idea I would soon be leading a feral life in a queue of cars just beyond a forecourt. This morning I'm not even sure I knew what a jerry can was. And now I have killed many in their name.

Do not judge me. You would do the same. These are desperate times, where the most precious natural resource is on the verge of extinction (possibly) and we must adapt, battle and conquer to survive. The weak will fall away, while the mighty ones... oh wait, the line's moving.