A RAIN of sand from the Sahara has finally made London the desert that it always was in spirit, it has been confirmed.
The capital, whose streets are now dominated by endless rolling dunes and the parched cries of the dying, is now as fatal to the physical body as it has always been to the soul.
Hedge fund manager Tom Booker said: “When I saw the blood rain spatter against the windows this morning, my initial thought was that it was a bit heavy-handed as a metaphor.
“But as the city was buried up to the fourth storey, becoming an endless vista of bleak dunes where survival can only be measured by the day, I realised that finally the exterior world matched the interior one.
“I’m setting out for Battersea tonight, with a team of native guides and a train of camels, but they say there is only a 20 per cent chance we will survive.”
Londoner Carolyn Ryan said: “Amid the bleached bones an oasis is but a mirage, the few trading posts charge unbelievable amounts for the most basic supplies and any companionship inevitably ends in betrayal.
“And now it’s covered in sand.”
