When the Wind Blows

Oh, I do feel tired.
Really exhausted and... all dizzzzy.
Nervous exhaustion
due to unaccustomed lifestyle.

That's what that is.
How's your headache, dear?
Just the same, thanks.
Aspirins didn't seem to do any good at all.

I think I've got a temperature.
I feel all hot and shivery.

You do look pale, dear.
- I should have an early night.
- I must clear up.

Suppose someone comes and sees the place
in this state? We might have visitors.

The Emergency Service should arrive today.

- I'm surprised they've not come before.
- I expect they've got a lot of people to attend to.

Oh, yes. We're only an outlying district.
They'll be heavily engaged
within the stricken area itself.

- Will it be like meals on wheels, dear?
- Yes, I should think so.

There'll be mobile canteens and soup kitchens,
teams of doctors and nurses,
helicopters flying in blankets
and medical supplies.

It'll all move slowly into action, you bet.
They'll all be here in next to no time.
The governmental authorities have been aware
of this eventuality for years.

So continency plans
will have been formulated long ago.

We won't have to worry about a thing.
The powers that be will get to us in the end.
I hope they come soon, dear.
I'm not feeling very well.
I wonder if we'd have been better off
in the cellar.

Oh, no, dear. Too damp.
Think of my rheumatism.
- Would you like a bite to eat, dearest?
- No, thanks.

I'm right off food.
So am I.
I must go to the toilet.
And I don't want any arguments.

Blessed dust everywhere.