It's Snow Joke

Posted 25 Nov, 2009

It has been said that you can always tell an Englishman abroad because he does not talk about the weather where he is but the weather 'back home'. Such is our preoccupation with the daily dose of rain and sun, that I am braving an injunction handed down from those who wield the publishing hatchet that our blog posts should not contain any reference to the climate, changing or not.

But since I am still to be seen of an evening, kebab poised, over the outdoor fireplace in case the 'barbecue summer' promised by the experts may yet put in a belated appearance, I feel it permissible to draw to your attention that it is not too early for mention to be made of snow. Indeed, if global warming is actually happening (though average world temps have gone down in the last nine years since satellite observations took over the job, and a news item not given an airing, but carefully hidden in the sci-tech Ceefax page 154, reported a German study showing that the earth will be going through a naturally cooler period for the next 10 years), wilder winters may feature even more often than in Dickens' day. Indeed, you may even be reading this from within the confines of a large drift as you struggle to the pre-Christmas sales for last-minute Easter eggs.

Actually, it's not the weather that is the problem but the forecasts. I have noticed over past months that, for the local forecast, BBC and ITV seem to take opposite tacks each day and so take it in turns to be right. Which at least makes each of them right about half the time. But how about this for an announcement?:

In the evening, organised snow will appear.

How on earth do you organise snow?

I have watched the flakes falling for hour upon delight-filled hour (and, as a teacher, would actually encourage those in my charge to head for the windows and stare out at the winter scene for five minutes – which is far better than attempting to continue slogging through simultaneous equations with one eye peering sideways and calculating how early the school bus might be summoned). So you can take my word for it that it's the most undisciplined stuff around, having even less control than a banker selecting his bonus payments. We've all seen it – drifting, skittering, blowing hither and thither, and staggering wildly over the landscape like the inmates of a hen party leaving a nightclub. Organised is not the word that readily comes to mind when gazing out at a howling blizzard. Chaotic might be nearer the mark.

Ah, but the forecaster also stated that this particular batch was on its way in from Russia. Maybe they have a better system over there…

OK, comrade flakes, line up, we are going to hit England. Small flakes at the front, large at the rear. Straight across Europe, avoiding Belgium, over the Channel, turn right at Dover, and concentrate on motorways, airports and railway lines. We intend to have the whole country shut down by tomorrow morning. We shouldn't meet much opposition; the new Mark XII gritters won't be ready for a couple of months yet. Any questions? Right, pick up a tailwind from Siberia and off we go!

White leader to White Leader!

Come in, White Leader!

Bad news ,White Leader – Dmitri bought it over Kent – landed on a heated football pitch.

A nasty way to go. Add his squadron to yours and head for Salisbury plain – plenty of landing grounds there. Over and out.

White Leader to White Leader! Did you hear about Dmitri?

White Leader to White Leader! Yes, bad show. White Leader told me about it just now. How's it with you, Vladimir?

Hello, White Leader. Got a warm front attacking from below; am climbing to 20 thousand metres – should get through OK. Over and out.

Oh, that we could be that organised to deal with it!

Whilst on the subject of weird announcements, another one dished out by my regional TV station was:

Irresponsible vandals stole a wheelchair.

Yes, by all means do a double-take and read that again: irresponsible vandals! Surely that's one of those tautology things? But the announcement forcefully carries the implication that, somewhere or other, there are responsible vandals carefully setting fire to their schools but only destroying their own artwork; or sticking chewing gum under bus seats in a way that prevents it coming into contact with another passenger's clothing.

Imagine the scene at the back of the library, where a group of young hooligans has gathered for the evening session of mayhem…

'Ere, you lot, people like snow, right, and have fun, right. So wot we're goin' to do is – sweep all the front paths and pavements right down the street – that'll get 'em!

Cor, yeah! And we could chuck salt all over the place as well to stop it settling.