It may very well have come to the attention of the readers of this publication that there has recently be a certain level of snowfall upon these fair isles. This can be seen to be a fairly newsworthy occurrence, it has, after all, been some eighteen years since last snowfall of this magnitude was recorded. As such the powers that be at the Idle Spectator felt that a comment upon these affairs by one of our lead writers was not just warranted, but necessary. Unfortunately they were all unavailable, adverse weather conditions foiling their attempts to reach our Pall Mall headquarters or the emergency outpost set up in the early hours of Monday morning in Fitzrovia.
This is understandable, there is a lot of snow. The trains have ground to a half, not because of any problems with the tracks (the Victorian engineers had half a braincell between them), but rather because the useless tin boxes those who man the locomotives travel to work in largely cease to function at three Celsius. The entire road network of the United Kingdom has vanished completely. Workmen interviewed by TIS swore that they ‘left it right here Friday, guv, some blighter must’ve ‘ad it away’. When our intrepid man in the field scraped away the inch of snow to reveal tarmac the workman eluded further questioning by claiming to be on a tea break. Finally those most Ariel of gateways to the kingdom have been shut down completely, which might have placed additional pressure on the seaports, but fortunately no one from South East rail showed up to work, preventing any air passengers from rushing the port of Dover.
Of course, should one choose to look past the dozen or so pages of coverage granted to a comparatively low level of snowfall in every major broadsheet, mayhap one could stumble across a passing byline regarding the wildcat strikes in the country’s oil refineries. Perhaps this is because this is a much more contentious issue to cover than tales of London bobbies throwing snowballs at each other. Pulling together, blitz spirit in the face of adverse weather, this is the England that sells papers. An England of striking oilmen does not. We do not strike. We are not French.
Perhaps we here at the Idle Spectator are wrong, perhaps the snow is more important that the strikes. After all, if the striking workers cannot make it to the picket line, what importance does the strike have? Perhaps, this is a matter that has been entirely blown out of proportion. It has after all, been snowing and that is what matters above all else. The price of petrol may once again rise leading to the rest of the working classes getting bolshie and joining their brother oil refiners or the price of fuel may rise to the point that the aged may be unable to open the threatening letters from their energy providers, but what really matters is that it has been snowing.
Yours, The Idle Spectator
The Idle Spectator 