| "Its not natural is it?"
that was the response this last weekend as a great flaming ball appeared in the sky over
Scotland. Millions of Scots, grown used to being pissed on from a great height, could only
look upwards consumed with primal terror as the strange phenomenon persisted all day until
chased away from the sky by encroaching night. Unsure what to make of the
portents, terrified locals could only consult the BBC’s delphic oracle Heather the
Weather to provide solace.
A reassuring sight, standing before her weather map
within the holy temple of Queen Margaret Drive, She Who Must Be Believed, conjured isobars
out of thin air and spoke thusly: |
"In the time before reckoning,
before even pubs were open on a Sunday, it came to pass that every year there was a time
called Sum-Uhr and in that time beyond memory it pleased the gods to send a great ball of
hotness into the air and cause it to spread warmth across the land. But the Scots, because the gods had made them torn-faced, grew red of
nose and rent their garments, saying to one another ‘Christ, it's awfy close is it
no?’ And the sound of their moaning carried up unto the very vault of heaven itself
and the gods did say ‘Sod you then, have some rain instead.’ And lo’ it did
piss down as per bloody usual." |
