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WHEN did it become a criminal offence to enjoy yourself in this country?
For the first time in decades, we’re experiencing a proper summer. Blue skies, warm breezes and lifted spirits.
The temperatures we’ve been enjoying for weeks now look set to continue with Friday hitting 98F (36.6C).
Woo! Break out the cold beers and barbies.
Er, no, sorry you can’t. The fun police have declared that we’re only a beam of sunlight short of a national disaster and should all stay indoors or we’ll die.
Yep, that’s the advice from the Met Office and Public Health England, who have issued an “Amber” warning.
Their joint advice is to treat our heatwave like a nuclear attack. Lock yourself at home, pull the curtains, drink your own body weight in water and whatever you do don’t venture outdoors between 11am and 3pm.
It sounds like the script from a horror movie. Only rather than zombies or monsters prowling our streets we have sunshine.
We’re so used to the grey, drizzly clouds that seem to have been permanently anchored over us since the heatwave of 1976 that we’re all in a state of shock.
It’s called summer folks and we should damn well be enjoying it. It’ll be peeing down and cold before you know it.
Of course we should all be keeping an eye out for the elderly, very young and those with health issues like asthma but we should also be enjoying ourselves.
And as for the totally moronic DATE NIGHT: Trump. Below, shark advice to drink water, use sun cream and sleep in a cool room? Talk about stating the bleedin’ obvious!
Just how stupid do they think we are? Hate the cliched phrase of “nanny state” but they are treating us like naughty fiveyear-olds, aren’t they?
Plus how are you meant to go to work if you’re following instructions to cower under your stairs with a stockpile of tinned food?
Or maybe they think we can all just phone the boss and explain that we won’t be in for the rest of the week cos it’s a bit hot. That’ll go down well. Probably find yourself invited to take an extended vacation. Permanently. Which brings us swiftly on to summer holidays.
With the pound tanking and pilots on strike, this is the perfect summer to enjoy a break in our own beautiful islands.
Despite having it drummed into us to be slightly embarrassed by everything British for years now, we really do live in a stunning place. Personally I would rather go on a date with Donald Trump than attempt to drive to the West Country, but get the fact that it’s worth it when you get there.
Aside from the sharks, of course. Although if the kids are really annoying you, it presents an interesting solution. Naturally, it’s rained a bit in the Lake District but this is officially the wettest place in the UK outside of Theresa May’s Cabinet.
Aah, and it appears to have rained quite a bit in Windsor too because Her Maj’s gardens are still suspiciously green. Hmm.
Everywhere else is a scorched yellow. Seems like that drive to save water only applies to us plebs.
Evidently this spell of gorgeousness is due to something called the Mediterranean Melt.
Nothing to do with the Love Island numpties but a plume of hot air billowing up from the Continent.
European hot air that for once isn’t linked to Brexit? Hallelujah, it really is a miracle.
Look, I’ve forensically studied the effects of the yellow stuff in the sky and so far the scariest thing is that we might be in for a shortage of carrots.
And possibly peas. Oh and an outbreak of men in socks and sandals.
And fat birds in crop tops. Terrifying.
So if the heatwave Nazis don’t mind, I’d like them to stick their “Amber” warnings where the sun don’t shine...
Tricky to find this summer but here’s a clue: it’s where you’ve mostly been talking out of this week.
So cheers folks. Have a brilliant, happy and sunny summer holiday!