Water... Falling From The Sky? Surely This Is The End...

We Brits take the weather damn seriously. We complain about it, finally get SOME good weather, then complain it's not good enough, then we complain again when it's gone. If the grass is always greener on the other side, there are at least 80,000 other sides.

So what do we enjoy? Two things. One: sun. And we want loads of it. The moment a ray peeks out between the clouds we instantly strip down to near-nothing, put on sunglasses and lie down in the garden, only to return with hanging head in two minutes realising that just because the sun is out doesn't mean it's not 10 degrees (it's BRITAIN for goodness' sake). When we get a  decent amount of exposure to that big old star, our pale, living room-bleached skin gets roasted when finally seeing the sun after years of being a plump potato, eating custard creams and watching the X Factor. Two: snow. Yes, we rejoice in the entire country's infrastructure gets completely buggered, cars' engines freeze up and break, and people crash and die in road accidents. OH, ISN'T IT A JOLLY TIME FOR ALL. We also go out dressed in enough layers to give a polar bear a heat rash. Do you want to experience winter or not?

The ironic thing about this weather we rarely get yet adore, is that both of them actually kill us faster than the feared concept of... dare we mention it, RAIN. Sun is basically cancer smiling beautifully down at us from the sky and we benignly lap it up as if to say 'yes, PLEASE DESTROY MY SKIN CELLS.' Snow gives us frostbite and messes up our beloved gas-guzzlers, but what is it about rain that scares us so much? 

The human race as a whole lives off water, people in Africa are dying from a lack of the stuff and as soon as it falls out the sky we hide away under our little umbrellas and complain that the sun isn't out, which we'd be unsatisfied with anyway. You might as well have two pound coins falling from the clouds, and we'd be complaining about the bruises on our heads while our currency becomes worthless and our economy dies. We drink, swim in, wash in and piss the stuff, but Cowell help us if our clothes get a bit of it on them.

So maybe in a way the human race, as another of its stupid attributes, hates what it lives off, though as with all hateful trends, it's mainly the people of Britannia. Britannia rules the waves, however much she bloody hates them when they spray on her mighty clothing.