Frozen water drifts down from the sky causing a nation of simpletons to lose their tiny minds
The UK has gone off its collective nut over a smattering of frozen water.
The mania came earlier than usual this year eliciting snowmageddon headlines, prompting six million ‘working from home’ emails and generally plunging the country into chaos.
In the north, joyful folk flocked to the hills in shorts and T shirts to break land speed records on service station sledges while toddlers sculpted lifesize ice replicas of the Angel of the North.
“It’s just a little flurry,” said postman Neville Grimthwaite, up to his neck in a snowdrift. “I can’t feel my legs and I’ve completely lost my penis, but I’m not going to let a few snowflakes stop me doing me job.”
Further south, three millimetres of slush derailed seventeen trains and closed four airports.
The traffic on the M25 came to a total standstill after a multi-car pile-up and people resorted to huddling around their vente lattes in a desperate bid for survival. Angela Meakin, her arse a toasty 24 degrees courtesy of her Range Rover’s heated seats, wept openly, “The satnav says we’re 600 metres and fourteen hours away from the next M&S Simply Food… we’re all doomed.”
Online, wall-to-wall social media posts featuring frosty landscapes and legions of snowmen led to a mass snow-blinding, putting a strain on hospital A&Es already stacked to the rafters with slip-related injuries.
The pound crashed to its lowest ever ebb and the remaining fourteen Europeans left the country in disgust, incapacitating the UK’s service industries.
Half an hour later the sun came out, the whole lot melted and normal service resumed.