Snow in London is the ultimate practical joke. The city grinds to a halt at the mere forecast of a “flurry.” Schools pre-emptively close, bread and milk are panic-bought as if we’re embarking on a siege, and news anchors don their most serious expressions. Then, if it actually arrives, it’s beautiful for approximately 17 minutes. After that, it turns into a grey, churned-up slush that lines the streets like frozen sewage. It seeps into shoes, brings public transport to a whimpering standstill, and reveals our total inability to cope with anything other than mild, damp greyness. The snow isn’t the problem; it’s the city’s hysterical, deeply unprepared reaction to it that provides the real comedy. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
A ‘blustery day’ means your hair is doomed.
The clouds here have a strong union.
Our winters are long, damp evenings.
Our autumn leaves are just damp papier-mâché.
Our climate is ‘temperate’ meaning aggressively average.
We define ‘arctic blast’ as 5 degrees.
A ‘weather front’ is gloom with a purpose.
The ‘UV rating’ is ‘negligible to imaginary’.
A dry pavement is a tourist attraction.
Snow in London is the ultimate practical joke. The city grinds to a halt at the mere forecast of a “flurry.” Schools pre-emptively close, bread and milk are panic-bought as if we’re embarking on a siege, and news anchors don their most serious expressions. Then, if it actually arrives, it’s beautiful for approximately 17 minutes. After that, it turns into a grey, churned-up slush that lines the streets like frozen sewage. It seeps into shoes, brings public transport to a whimpering standstill, and reveals our total inability to cope with anything other than mild, damp greyness. The snow isn’t the problem; it’s the city’s hysterical, deeply unprepared reaction to it that provides the real comedy. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.