Umpteen reasons why this heatwave sucks and the sun should go to blazes
THE man was upset. "I have a hundred of cabbage set and the heat will kill 'em," he said. Sapling cabbages are as thirsty as TDs after a long night passing legislation.
Ah, but I love the sun, and the heatwave, like the recession, is set to continue. I don't think there's anything better for the human condition than walking on Ballybunion beach with the waves licking your toes and "not a furze bush between here and America".
The cabbage patch man told me his tongue was as dry as a keerawn – a word for a small piece of turf that has fallen off the mother sod. He hopes the sun goes away to Spain, he said, and so in the interest of balance I thought it only fair that we should represent the views of those who hate sunny weather.
Read to the bottom of the page for nearly 100 reasons why we should switch off the sun. Some I made up myself, but most have been gathered from the disenchanted and those infected with athlete's foot and vaginal itching.
Plastic bottles and soggy nappies will choke dolphins. Thousands of barbecues will burn a hole in the ozone layer. I saw a big black Labrador scrape his tongue off the hot pavement. My friend, George, was bitten by a stallion horsefly and now he has a lump the size of a golf ball on his inner thigh. The bin stinks. Oxters stink. Athlete's foot has reached epidemic proportions, even in those who are not athletic. People are taking days off and pretending to be sick while our taxes are still paying them. A pregnant woman was told working in the heat was worse than doing sit-ups in a sauna wearing attic insulation.
Botulism has made a comeback. Flies are back. I'd swear I saw a sausage roll taking a stroll. Bluebottles are head-banging off walls and their interminable hum is driving us mad. Sun protection cream is as dear as cosmetics. Poor people might get skin cancer.
The radiator in my car blew up at the Munster football final. The garage said it's important to put water in it. Thousands of purple jellyfish are stinging the pink people. Drivers don't park their cars, they abandon them. They park on narrow roads leading down to beaches and the ambulances can't get to the shore.
Foreigners tell their friends the holiday was a disaster. "Not a drop of rain and as hot as home," they say. Fat men are dying from the gander's death. Which is the old term for a man who dies on the job. Sex being the job.
Cows drink millions of extra litres of water every day, and now that the farmer's water supply is metered, the cost is rising. Cows are as thirsty as TDs. Feck, I used that sad joke already. Heat affects the concentration.
The bear in the zoo had to be given a haircut. High temperatures reduce serotonin levels. Serotonin calms us. Studies prove conclusively that domestic violence soars in hot weather.
Ants would lift you back to their nests if you fell asleep in the sun.
Women who wear tea cosy hats winter and summer will have to take them off and get their hair done.
Cigarette sales are up because people are spending more time out of doors and so more smokers will die earlier from cancer. Furriers are fecked. There isn't a house in Ireland with air-conditioning. It's impossible to get to sleep at night in the heat.
Sex is out because it involves too much effort. And it's impossible to get a proper grip what with all the sweating and the after-sun creams. The roads are melting. People out foreign on holidays hope the rain pisses down on us. Ryanair will be putting coin slots in the jacks to make up for the loss of profits. Rashes are spreading like a rash.
Butter is melting in sandwiches. Cats pee all over the place because they're in heat in the heat which triggers off the mating season when they pee more and the smell of the pee never leaves. Like Anglo, the stench will be with us for ever.
IRELAND looks too good in the sun. The food is so much better here, the pubs are livelier and the people so much friendlier you realise the kip in Spain you've been holidaying in since 1973 is just that.
The young people will not have heard of builders' bum. Back in the old days, builders were always showing off their hairy bums when they bent over to shovel cement into the mixer. Then there were no more builders, but now on the beaches it's impossible to walk more than a few metres without having to look at some hairy bottom. Even a gay friend said yuk, and he'd be fond of bottoms. "They should be done for indecent exposure," he advocated.
I'm going to stop. Right now. I'm sick of myself and all the whinging. Get someone else to fight yer case, ye ungrateful whelps.
I'm looking out the window here on Sunday morning and it's getting cloudy. We'll have to stop talking down the weather.
Now, as promised last week, here is the exclusive, inside story of Jonathan and Laura Sexton's wedding. Eat your heart out, 'Hello'.
A great day was had by all. Adare Manor Hotel even hired an ice cream van for outside the church.
I was sitting beside the gorgeous and smart Holly Carpenter. Holly is a top model. She told me I was still a fine-looking man and I'd pass for 20 years younger. No, she didn't, but I'd say it was on the tip of her tongue.