I hate this weather.
I know. Buzz kill. Party pooper. Grumpy bastardo extraordinaire.
But I do. Hate it I mean, with a passion.
It’s hot and sticky. It makes me irate and uncomfortable. It burns. My skin and my eyes.
It also turns Joe public into utter fucking nobheads. More so than usual.
Suddenly the majority of males feel the need to be topless.
Drinking becomes mandatory at every hour.
Barbecues are lit stinking out the garden.
Dickheads see fit to blare their shit music at obnoxiously anti-social levels. I hear it over my music. Over my TV. Invading my domain. I don’t think you’re cool. I actually want to kill you. Painfully. & your dog too.
The pollen count rises, raping my sense with spermy pollen until I want to punch my nose off my face.
So yes, I hate this weather.
It’s only acceptable when abroad with a swimming pool and air conditioned residence.
Piss off sun.