It’s the time of year where, as regular viewers will know, I start to complain about hay fever. But apart from a sneezing fit the other day – which I think was mainly down to Ian Chaddock getting too close to my face with his stupid illness and infecting me – I haven’t had many symptoms yet.
This is worrying in my naturally cynical mind, because I always jump straight to the Worst Possible Situation. It’s clearly because I’m going to have an attack of hay fever (note: I’ve started writing it not as a single word, as that’s what you’re supposed to do and I’m not above learning) so much worst than anything I’ve ever had before, it’s just saving up the itchy, runny fury for later.
But then my rational brain kicks into gear and sorts things out into nice, simple, logical piles for me. Or logical pies. I haven’t decided which yet. And you know what logical mince pies tell me?
Climate change has made all the world go ‘fucked up’, as the scientists put it, making spring go wacky and winter not bother. It’s made plants flower all wrong and stuff and birds get confused (always hilarious). It’s also killed hay fever.
It has to be the way. CFCs and fossil fuels have contributed to a changing situation in the ecosphere of the world and, as a result, have inadvertently lead to the destruction of the bane of my summertime life: hay fever. As such, climate change is possibly the best thing that has ever happened and the best thing that will ever destroy the world as we know it.
Well, either that or I just don’t get it so bad living on the coast as I do, what with there being less pollen and all.