I happened to come across the following email draft from about a decade ago and it made me laugh so hard that I’m reposting it here for your viewing pleasure. The beginning is a pitch made by a television producer and what follows is my response that for some reason, I never sent. I’m not sure that they ended up making the show, but if they did I’m certain that I’d have been at the top of list of contestants. 

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be hunted down by the walking dead?

If an apocalypse struck this could happen to you! Male or female. Old or young.

Would you have the creativity, mental ability and survival skills to pass the ultimate test?

A brand new BBC Three reality series is looking for contestants. So whether you’re a zombie fanatic, love the thrill of being scared or just think you’ll look good being chased by zombies, we want to hear from you.

Whatever your reason, we want to know why you’d like to take part, what personal attributes you would use to survive and why we should pick you.

My (unsent) response:

Subject: Please let me scream dramatically into your cameras. 

Dearest BBC Three Zombie Selection Committee, 

 Let’s cut to the chase: I want to be on I Survived A Zombie Apocalypse for the same reason I once ate an entire family-sized bag of chips in one sitting: to prove that I can. Sure, doomsday preppers have their bunkers, their canned beans, and their suspiciously detailed zombie-head-smashing flowcharts. But let’s be real: those folks are just cosplaying as survivalists. Meanwhile, I’ve spent years honing my true apocalypse skill set: arguing with Siri, surviving on 2 hours of sleep, and sprinting to catch the bus (only to watch it drive away). If that’s not “resilience,” then I’m sure I don’t know what is.

But why do I want to participate? Simple. I want to answer one of humanity’s most pressing questions: Can a person survive a horde of the ravenous undead using only sarcasm, a half-charged iPhone, and a pocketful of Haribo gold bears? Spoiler: Probably not. But watching me try would make for some glorious television. Imagine the drama! The suspense! The moment I inevitably trip over my own shoelaces and yell, “JUST EAT MY ASS, PLEASE! THERE’S FAR TOO MUCH OF IT ALREADY!”

But wait! You’re probably thinking, “Why should we pick you over some gym rat with a hero complex?” Simple: Gym rats lack panache. I won’t “bravely sacrifice myself for the team.” I’ll shove Karen from HR into a zombie’s path, scream “SORRY, PERFORMANCE REVIEWS ARE NEXT WEEK!”, and bolt. That’s not cowardice, it’s innovative problem-solving. 

Here’s a short list of “personal attributes” that I bring to the table:

• Calm under pressure: I once microwaved a fork for 1 minute and 13 seconds, just to see what happens. (Spoiler: Sparks happen. As in, “HOLY SHIT, THAT’S A LOT OF SPARKS.” Regret also happens, as does a newfound respect for physics.) 
• Team player: I’ll 100% share snacks… if you ignore that one time I ate my roommate’s birthday cake and blamed it on “ghosts.”
• Marketable meltdown: My scream sounds like a seagull trapped in a fax machine. Viral? Absolutely. 

In conclusion, I’m the contestant you need: a disaster wrapped in a motivational quote, ready to turn your show into a masterclass in “how not to survive.” Pick me, and I’ll deliver the chaos your viewers crave. Or I’ll die trying. Either way, you win! If you’re looking for someone who’ll treat the apocalypse like an unpaid internship (all panic and no plan), then I. AM. YOUR. GAL. 

Yours in (mild) terror, 

Julie Grayson

P.S. If I die, please play “Don’t Stop Me Now” at my memorial. It’s what I would’ve wanted.

What happened when the math teacher gave out extra homework? The addition caused division to multiply.