Our beloved ditchdigging Brian is underneath all that snow. He's such a noble creature, he'd stagger out looking for food for the cats and not think of himself.
Listen lad, don't think of Scott of the Antarctic, don't be a hero, drink every bit of booze in the house and roast the cats. We'll send you replacements.
16 comments:
I'd reckon Fleetwood would have stocked up well from his local Dan Murhpys.
Actually, I rather like it. It's very peaceful. No traffic. Even most of the local moggies who invade my cottage every morning have had the good sense to stay at home in front of their respective fires. Michelle's having a bit of trouble carrying the shopping home, but seeing as I'm toasting my toes and supping a tankard of Teacher's finest here, that's not really any of my concern.
Saw the map on the tv tonight and thought "Hope Brian/Michelle/Scott/Mark/ Vintage Kitten, et el are rugged up indoors"
Then I started noshing on an ice cube or 3 ;)
Andrew, he probably has a pipeline but it's freezing and you know how the poms love warm beer.
Fleetwood, I hope you're digging a path from the gate to the kitchen to help get the food inside. Dare I ask what you're toasting your toes on? The last I heard they were talking about cutting power.
Jayne, if the Gulf Stream goes haywire, it'll be like this permanently. I suppose Her Majesty will just throw another corgi on the bed.
Witchy,
They're only going to cut the gas to large industrial users. At least, that's the plan so far. Got a goodly supply of whiskey in, in case all else fails. Tha should keep me warm.
Don't worry Fleety, we'll helicopter in supplies, just make sure Michelle is ready to catch.
Any chance that when the thaw comes, hoards might float to any boggy surface?
Not much chance, Witchy...although round some of the boggier estates a few whores might resurface from the mire.
That's an impressive amount of snow. And a great photo.
Noble sacrifices to the Goddess of Lancashire. By the way if you send us your snow, we'll send you some 43degree heat.
River, I've never seen Great Britain so covered in snow but that's the value of NASA. In fact if Brian went out and wrote his name in the snow, in the time-honoured bloke way, then the cameras would pick that up I bet.
Witchy,
I've already tried that. Unfortunately a local dog-walker with a poop-scoop waltzed off accidentally with the full stop.
It's raining. Big raindrops. I went out in my underpants to cover the barbecue. Good heavens, then it stopped. Well it's cooler now but the house is still hot, my cheap airconditioner is the same unit as Miss Goldsworthy's. She's a lesbian but doesn't know it. I'd tell her, but only on a first date.
Ah, Fleetwood, boys and their toys.
Robbert, deshabille at 3.34 in the afternoon! The things the filthy rich can get away with.
I was going to say, "I went out to cover the barbecue in my underpants."
But revised it (for obvious reasons).
Robbert, a very small barbecue or very large underpants, you could have had us all intrigued.
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