How would I survive the apocalypse? By stocking up on the key item most preppers forget.
Russia is once again a threat to Europe and the US can’t be relied upon to save us. In the French government booklet there will, reportedly, be emergency numbers, radio channels and encouragement, should the need arise, to get involved in civil defence-type efforts including volunteer firefighting.
This assumes that some semblance of order survives. My nearest London tube station is one of the city’s deepest, but I’ve seen enough apocalypse shows to know that hiding underground is not the answer; you have either to head north, to a national park where you can outrun the cannibals and hunt game, or barricade yourself in your apartment for three months until the initial anarchy has burned itself out and you can go on a scavenging run to the shops.
And, of course, you must be prepared. After the blackout, I bought a torch so powerful it could double as Mace if you could get an aggressor to look straight into it, and I’m definitely thinking about finding the cable to charge it. I’m also starting to stock up, although it strikes me that the French have left out one important piece of advice from their booklet. A lot of people in New York have generational trauma from relatives who did, indeed, flee Europe decades ago, and the ones I know would point out that missing from the French guidelines is alcohol.
This isn’t a joke. The shrewd prepper understands that if things collapse and money becomes useless, the value of alcohol – for anaesthetic, sterilisation, sedation – rises to the very top of the new currency system. You can pack your tiny bottles of water and buy your tins, but my advice to you, if prepping, is to stop off at the off-licence and grab three bottles of premium whisky and a bottle of Tanqueray – which you are absolutely not allowed to touch until the bombs start falling.