This British spring is an absolute scorcher
I’m so glad winter has finally passed, I tell you, after losing £31.8billion in Las Vegas, the freezing downpours of the last few months took me to the brink of suicide.
But now spring has firmly announced its presence, I am looking forward to a long, hot summer. The kind of summer where you can fry eggs on the pavement and ‘accidentally’ poison your wife. Life is good.
Ahhh, what a beautiful day. The blossom is blooming, the sheep are shagging and my pet tortoise Timmy is out of hibernation. I’m so happy, I could weep. But I won’t do that because I’m a hot, raging beast of a man.
This British spring is an absolute scorcher. I tell you what ladies, it’s not just the farm animals that are feeling frisky right now. If you know what I mean? Visit my website if you don’t.
Not quite as hot as previous days, but I’d still expect there to be plenty of strawberries out there ripening nicely. I should have some on my roof terrace, in fact. Right next to a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.
According to my contact at the Met Office, Thursday will see the return of some wintry weather. I wouldn’t trust him though, he does work for the Met Office after all. Me, on the other hand, I work for nobody.
Wait a second. That can’t be right. Surely, there’s been some mistake? This is April, right? April the seventh? Bloody hell. I’ve completely forgotten my mother’s birthday. Sorry mummy.
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