The Big Freeze

Shocking incidents have been occurring up and down the UK this week. Millions of people have reported white flecks of crystallised water falling from the clouds and blanketing the ground. This unprecedented phenomenon has caused slight disruption to transport system, and has caused many people to experience slippery underfoot conditions.

Whilst experts are speculating on the nature of this unusual incident, many religious groups are branding it “Devil’s Dandruff”. Due to the drop of temperature in the usually clement month of February, many leading science teachers believe that this white, solid rain may freeze and cause two killer scenarios known as “Ice” and “Frost”. People are advised not to emulate Torvil and Dean, as they may snap their spines during this unrepentant end of times.

Of course, this is all hyperbole. Without wanting to carp on the sensational nature of the media again, this is almost how the “Cold Snap” or “Big Freeze” is being reported this year.

What the pissflaps is that?

I’m sorry, but the “Big Freeze”? Why do we have to attribute a hysterical title to a naturally occurring weather front? Come April time, will the news be reporting on the “Big Grow”? Or perhaps the “Massive Melt” in August?

It’s just snow. Bloody snow that’ll melt and turn to murky slush in a couple of weeks. Sure, it’s a bit colder than usual (thanks climate change!), but nothing that a thick jumper won’t fix. Even your nan, who according to the media is at “special risk”, would just tell you to put on an extra layer and get on with it, you sopping great dickless wonder!

The shops at the weekend were swarming with people buying ludicrous amounts of bread and milk. Unless they intend to churn and mature the milk into a delicious cheese and host a cheese sandwich party for the entire town, I don’t see why people need so much bread and milk. Why not buy Pop Tarts? You can always drink tap water, or Irn Bru from the tap if you live in Scotland. If you’re going to go shopping crazy, why not buy that delicious, sugar-filled cereal you’ve had your eye on, safe in the knowledge that any weight gain will insulate you and stand you in good stead for the harsher weather? Why not buy a 200 strong pack of novelty curly straws, tape them together into a liquid assault course, and race your husband/wife/other half in the world’s nuttiest drinking contest? Why not buy a unicycle and a French stick for a riveting unicycle polo tournament? You might as well do something interesting if you get stuck in the house.

People in Europe and other snowy places think it’s hysterically funny how badly Britain copes with snow. As soon as the mercury hits -1, flights get cancelled and people flock to the shops for emergency supplies. Snow shovels go out of stock in seconds, forcing B&Q to go into meltdown (ironically for this time of year), all while people in Slavic regions enjoy a relaxing Jacuzzi in liquid nitrogen and go skinny dipping underneath frozen lakes.

Nothing could ever interrupt Rover's walkies

As a country that was once invaded by and bred with the Vikings, why can’t we handle a little frost under our bear belts every so often? Even if it causes our longboats to shrivel up a little bit, where’s the hardy spirit that had Norse warriors traverse the North Sea to find a land nearly as ravaged by ice as theirs was? I don’t really know where I’m going with this Viking theme, but I wanted to make a pun about my longboat, which has carried many a maiden to Valhalla and back. I suppose what I’m saying is, you’d expect us to be made of hardier stock.

Although the snow has yet to get anywhere near as bad as last year (or “Snowmageddon”), you’d be forgiven for thinking that the British public has never seen a single snowflake. I hope it snows more than ever, if only to whip the weather presenters up into such frenzy that they think the world is coming to end and start indulging themselves in their every waking perversion, live on air, before they die. And once the BBC, the last bastion of goodness in this shallow husk of a planet, falls to corruption and becomes a high budget version of Babestation, I can begin my eventual climb to world domination. Myessss, myesssss! Anyway, I must be off, I have plans to make. Robot armies don’t build themselves. Toodle pip!