To quote Michael Palin, 'You lucky, lucky Bastard!'
Here, in cold, wet, miserable, rejected Gloucester - you know
that funny little city in The Cotswolds
, it never, ever really snows!
Oh yeah, sure! We get some fluffy little white things that look like
snowflakes, and it lays on the ground for a few minutes, but you'd
hardly call it SNOW
! Not the real stuff that everybody else gets all over this bloody country.
Oh no! We get the stuff the
clouds don't want after they've dumped their load over the entire country. (Or maybe they just test their
release mechanisms before
they dump all over the country!)
I'd cut off my
balls to be able to romp in a snowdrift; to lie on a piece of wrinkly tin and use it to sled down Robinswood Hill or Painswick
Beacon; to have a decent snowball fight with my army cadets or dare I even suggest it, making love to my wonderful lady as we lie in the snow.
! I can't. Because we don't get any
snow in Gloucester. They do in Gloucestershire
, just not in Gloucester.
So please my friend stop moaning, gather up all you don't want, stick it in a parcel and send it to me, COD - Fritz in Gloucester!