I’m a bit leery about all this climate change shtick. There’s altogether too much of it about, in my opinion.
Take this March for example. Already there were people walking about moins jacket. A bit premature mind.
Sunshiny it was – but hardly tropical. All the same even I cast a clout – in the form of my shopping cardy – long before May said I could.
It’ll all end in tears, mark my words. I’ve seen it all before. This false hope thing I mean.
Hands off our Gulf Stram
We’ve already been warned the Canadians are after our Gulf Stream. They’ve got visions of turning their Hudson Bay into a holiday resort apparently.
Can’t blame them really – the poor colonial dears don’t know warm. But leaving us to shiver? Sods.
Then there’s the Arctic Ice, melting all over the place. Great chunks of glacier are snapping off and floating south willy-nilly.
There’s bound to be some ruining our holiday trade by bashing into the Needles and snapping them off. As well as forming a thick icy fringe all round the Island.
Alright for the Other Island probably
They’ve got enough moolah to keep themselves thawed. But we’ll still be out-spending ourselves on potholes and keeping the Council comfortable. Leaving our handful of public loos iced up and our defunct libraries as rescue centres for the frozen stiff.
Maybe I’m overdoing the doom bit, but as I approach my zimmer frame years, I tell you – I ain’t chucking out my thick socks just yet.
