As Sir Robert of Smith might say...

HOT HOT HOT!

The idea came before
the picture....

Blighty basks in temperatures hotter than the Med, which sounds considerably better that "slightly hotter than the inside of an hour old dog poo". Well, this is all very well, but I am not designed for this weather. I'm too big, my hair is too thick; I feel like a bear forced to live in an airing cupboard. Cruelty.

I have noticed through the course of writing this and flinging it out into the ether for anyone's entertainment,https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images? that I could not be more British. I am obsessed with the following:-

• The weather
• Poo
• Sport

But not necessarily in that order. And certainly not mixed up into some nightmarish version of It's A Knockout  where contestants have to play badminton in a storm of pee while whacking shuttlecocks made of shite.

I fear for myself....maybe Mr Handy is right when he gently shakes his head and says "I worry about you mate".