All the hot. The United Kingdom of disunity and Brexit bullshit has all the hot and you can’t have any unless you can prove you have British lineage going back a billion years. Actually, scrub that, it’s too fucking hot, we’re British, we don’t like any type of weather: you can have the hot. Take it, just take it before I die from it.
I did a little walking. It’s too hot. I took a short drive. It’s too hot. I sat around in my underwear drinking cold beverages. It’s too hot and also you can be arrested for that kind of behaviour in Starbucks.
I picked up a wonderful parcel that came all the way from the Californ of I A. That was the best bit of my day. The bestest best bit. It wasn’t too hot for that. And it has made me happy. All the happy.