Hotter

I would like to reassure all my dear friends who may have seen or heard today's rather thrilling news about Crewe's contribution to global warming, that myself and the Eclectic Landlady are safe and sound and have not been barbecued. Had we been grilled it would have been with a nice glaze of industrial cleaners and paint strippers.

It was a trifle inconvenient though. I had an appointment with the local paper for a bit of publicity on the book (now discounted at Amazon) at 1.15. When I saw the plume of smoke from my living room window just gone midday, I reckoned I was wasting my time. I was, next week's edition now.

And if the sight of a mile high column of noxious chemicals wasn't enough for the wankers in the car next to me in Tesco's petrol station, both of them promptly lit up with their windows wide open. Both presumably blissfully ignorant of the fact that the very same process that had propelled their knackered heap of crap onto the forecourt, i.e. ignition of a volatile vapour, was the very same one that could have sent the lot of us to oblivion. I really don't object to anyone wanting a quick entry onto the Darwin Awards list, I just don't want to go with them.