ARCTIC LONDON

Ah, post-Christmas winter in London.

Yessiree, it’s been a tad nippy here in the Old Dart recently. For a few days last week it was even colder in London than it was in Greendland or parts of Antarctica (-11 degrees Celsius). The ocean froze at Dorset (see pic above), the Trafalgar Square fountains froze over (ditto), lakes and ponds froze over and foot long icicles formed in my street. Bookies started lowering their odds on the Thames getting chunky, school was cancelled for porky little primary schoolers in numerous areas out of fear that they might devour their bus drivers if they got stuck in a snowdrift en route, and I got a few dustings of huge fluffy snowflakes on my morning walks to the train station. Slightly warmer now, but only just. Aye, i’s been royt interestin’, me ol’ muckers.

Other London-y bits of interest:

· New Years – didn’t do much at all, hundreds of thousands people here were sick with colds, flus and the dreaded nonovirus, so not as many people went out, apparently. I stayed at home and watched the rich drunken neighbours set off fireworks from their rooftop balconies at 11pm. No apartments or rich drunken neighbours caught fire, unfortunately.

· More big names in the world of consumer products have been chewed up and spat out by the C****t C****h (as the w*nker editorialists in the papers here now refer to it – oh, my sides). Both Marks and Spencer and Debenhams started shedding jobs last week after the post-Xmas rush turned out to be a stroll. And Wedgewood, the fine china flogger which also happened to own Waterford Crystal and Royal Daulton, has called in the administrators. The dirge continued sounding today as Barclays gave 4000 of their employees the big Double Mocha Sackicino as well. Hopefully the entire mass-produced pop music industry will be given their Permanent Coffee Breaks later this week. Getting goosebumps of delight already at the thought of Girls Aloud and Boyzone having to line up at the Social office next to toothless Milwall supporters.

· My gym is packed with wretched New Years' Resolutioners clogging up the free weights area with their shiney new outfits and soon-to-evaporate enthusiasm. The cretins. I tolerate their presence because I know that, by the end of February, all of them will be back in their cosy local boozers, sucking down pints and bucket-sized glasses of Pinot instead, having convinced themselves once again that walking to and from the train counts as “exercise” and will save them from looking like Vicky Pollard or Ronnie Barker in a few years’ time. Very London.

· An escaped horse decided to canter into the lobby of his nearest cinema to check out the latest box office releases, prompting much spilling of popcorn and fizzy drinks onto tracksuits. Rumours that he left in disgust upon seeing High School Musical 3 still on the billboard are yet to be confirmed.

- The government announced today that they were going to push on with plans to build a third runway at Heathrow, meaning thousands of nearby houses will get the Big Yellow Machine Makeover. The airwaves and news broadcasts tonight have consequently been full of howls of protest, teeth-gnashing, clothes-rending and spirited-yet-polite discussion. Boris Johnson apparently even BLOW-DRIED AND STYLED HIS HAIR for a press-conference on the topic, causing everyone to momentarily forget the topic completely. Am going to have to commence self-flagellation if I miss seeing THAT on the late news. Some things are a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

- Almost forgot: after Croydon Council dropped one politician (our ex-IRA operative councillor), we're down another. Our Mayor. He dropped dead of a heart attack on New Year's Eve, apparently. At this rate I'll be CEO by Easter. Hobbiton-upon-Croydon, anyone?

So that's all the news that's fit to print (or that I can remember right now here in my room). Hope you're all well, and yes, fill me in on your latest shenanigans, you nutty bunch of scamps, you.