Job Lot: The Y2K survivor

By GRAHAM REID

Ken K. Roach. Age 53. Millennium survivor. Hasn't worked for the past year since he finished promoting the Y2K bug campaign, so has no income. Previous occupation: mathematical rationalist.

You've only just emerged from your bunker which you built to survive the millennium last year. What happened?

To our embarrassment, no one noticed we were missing, except the neighbours. I suspect that because we'd spoken to them so often about impending disaster and perhaps overstated the case about taking precautions and stockpiling, they were glad to see the last of us. One mouthed something like "good riddance, boring bastard" as we descended into the chamber. Perhaps I had become a bit of a bore, but people weren't stockpiling properly.

So you've been below ground since last December and really have no idea what happened this past year?

We used the transistor radio a few minutes a day to hear snippets of news. I thought the kids would have been disappointed when they heard about Shortland Street people losing their jobs, but having lived without it they didn't care. We knew business confidence slumped, but were disappointed it bounced back so quickly because the gloom and doom proved us right. We were delighted when Gore won the American election, but now we've learned of the Bush victory - which does rather prove us right about doom and gloom.

By the way, how has Dover turned out as an MP? Oh, and it's surely not that Paul Holmes who does the wheezy "lying in the sand" song, is it?

Umm. Why didn't you come out when you realised nothing catastrophic had happened?

Slightly embarrassing that. We'd stockpiled canned food and batteries and so on, but my son left the bunker key on the kitchen table. It was only when we didn't reply to tax demands that Inland Revenue came looking for us. Thank God for Inland Revenue, I say. Real lifesavers, those folks.

What was the first thing you did when you came out?

I was desperate for a drink.

You mean you survived without water down there?

No, I mean alcohol. And a big one. I was teetotal when I went down - but have you ever spent 24 hours a day with your wife and two teenage children? I've taken up smoking, too.

How did you feel when you realised computers hadn't crashed and aircraft hadn't fallen from the sky.

To tell the truth, a bit foolish. Ironically, computers continued to function but I ran out of typewriter ribbon. So my diary - which I had hoped to publish and have turned into a reality television show - came to an abrupt end in March. After that it was all a bit of a blur. One dark day much like another.

You were in the dark?

Yes, there's only so much life in triple-A batteries. There were days we couldn't eat because someone would misplace the can-opener in the dark and we'd be groping around looking for it. When we found it, eating became a lucky dip. For three days in a row we had beetroot with condensed cream.

Given you missed last year's bash, are you going to kick up your heels this New Year's Eve?

Absolutely not, because this is the true millennium, as any mathematician will tell you. I suspect things are going to be even worse. So I'm going back into the bunker to wait it out.

You're not serious?

I certainly am. I'm astonished so many people are taking it so lightly this time, particularly my neighbours.

Why wouldn't you let us take your photograph, forcing us to use a file shot?

Some people might recognise me and find out where we live, then they'll try to get into the bunker when the riots start.

You believe there'll be riots?

Without any of the fireworks and hoopla of last year, people will be bitterly disappointed and then get mad as hell. As sure as the sun rises in the sky. It does still rise, doesn't it?