One thing that we can all be certain of is that sooner or later the human race is fucked. Our civilisation might survive for another thousand years, it might eventually rise to become a perfect and a fair society, glorious and stable and globally united, but eventually it’s all going to come crashing down. You might say that it’s fate.

Since the odds on the apocalypse are probably pretty remote, the best way to get a wedge together on judgement day and have a brilliant party is probably to have placed a bet on it beforehand. In the spirit of pre-planning I got onto the phone with some bookies.

I used to live right next door to a Better Bets shop. So where better to start?

Better Bets: Hello Better Bets, how can I help you? 

Don’t Panic: Hi, I’m looking for some odds on something if you can help with that? 

BB: Okay…

DP: Yeah, I was looking at putting a bet on the end of the world. What are the odds on a massive meteor shower? 

BB: AAHAHAHA! Are you serious?

DP: Yeah I thought that maybe they might be like a million to one or something. I could just put some spare change on it and if it happened I could collect the winnings and have a party… 

BB: Well I don’t think we’d do anything like that. 

DP: Really? Are you sure? Nothing like that? 

BB: No. 

DP: Not even maybe something like the collapse of the world’s economies or something like that? 

BB:  No, sorry. Bye! 

DP: *sigh* yeah okay bye. 

BB: *click*

I was a little bit surprised that Better weren’t even remotely interested in taking my money from me. I thought I might have better luck with good old Ladbrokes, the staple of run down high-streets nationwide.

Ladbrokes: Hello Ladbrokes, can I take your account number please? 

DP: Erm, I don’t have an account number? … Do I need to set up an account?

L: Yes

DP: Could you maybe just offer me some odds on something anyway? 

L:… I. 

DP: Like on different ways that the world could end? Meteorites, floods, disease, aliens or maybe robots like in...

Image: ITV

L: I need an account number, mate. 

DP: You can’t just tell me what those odds are? 

L: No. 

DP: Fine! I'll take my money elsewhere! 

L: Okay, bye.

So I’m not doing fantastically well at this. I decide to give William Hill a go before I give up completely.

WH: Hello, William Hill? 

DP: Hi, I was wondering if you’d accept a bet on disease bringing about the end of the world?

(At this point I’m pretty sure I’m put on speakerphone.)

WH: Sorry, you’d like to… 

DP: Well I’m trying to find out what the odds are on a disease wiping out the human race...

28 Days Later: apocalypse comes about as the result of zombie plague. Betting shops across the UK curse their short-sightedness.

WH: Yeah, that’s not going to be on the system. 

DP: Oh right, so I can’t put a bet on? 

WH: Erm, not on that mate no…

(I decide to lie)

DP: That’s a shame, I’ve got a load of cash to blow here… 
WH: Well, there’s an address for people who want to make specific bets. Do you want that?

(I lie again)

DP: Sure…

I pretend to write down an address. I've got no intention of following this one up. Apparently bookies aren't interested in the end of the world. Either they don't think it's going to happen or they don't like money. I guess when the apocalypse arrives I'll just have to go looting with everybody else.