Hotter (than George Michael)

I am loving this weather. You don’t understand how much joy it brings me, I love the sun, the warmth, the sweat dripping down my arse crack like a single marble rolling through the grand canyon. It’s wonderful. I love being so warm at night that I have been known to wake up in a pool of fluid questioning whether I’ve been sweating perfusely or I’ve reverted back to childhood habits and pissed myself.
I will not complain, no I will not. I love it all, I love the train journeys where I can smell the balls of the guy standing too close next to me. I can’t get enough of seeing beads of liquid dripping off strangers stuck in a metal box collectively wishing they were either naked or dead.
It’s not often that dichotomy occurs either, wishing you were either naked or dead. In fact I can’t think of any other situation. If I do I’ll be sure to write an entire blog entry on it. I hear people complain about this weather and it drives me insane. Have they forgotten how miserable winter is. And how rain makes you feel depressed and makes you want to stare out of a window looking all meloncholy and pretend you’re in a 80s music video pining for a lost love never to return, “no I’m never gonna dance again, guilty feet ain’t got no rhythm”.
AHH sweet George Michael, You know what I’m talking about. Mostly. I mean I’m not talking about driving into snappy snaps George Michael. That was 2010 GM. I mean 1984 GM (the year, I mean. Not some sort of Orwellian style George Michael that convinces us he is our overlord or something – I don’t know, I haven’t read 1984 but I know enough about it to very loosely reference it in a blog post) what was I saying before those brackets… Ah yeaqh I’m talking the George Michael who cared not about who the fuck he whispered at. Like a G! He knows what I’m saying.
He loves summer. He hates winter probably. Maybe that’s why he drop into that photography shop. He hates all things snap. Cold snaps, the card game snap, snappy snaps. It’s all coming together. Like an operatic orgy climax.

My point is stop complaining about the weather. It’s beautiful. Like objectively beautiful George Michael in Wham!’s last Christmas video. Except that, but in summer. More like Last August Bank Holiday. Not quite as catchy for a song title name though so this is where my absolutely water tight GM analogy fails.

Go outside. See the sun. Stay safe. And pretend that global warming isn’t going to eventually kill us all.

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