The summer is a letdown because you ask too much of it. Three consecutive days of clement weather is too much pressure to put on this country.

Watermelons are only good when you can buy them in slices. Buying a whole watermelon and storing it in your fridge will only lead to its eventual demise at the hands of decomposition, because it is so daunting an item due to its sheer volume that you’ll never actually make the first move and cut off a piece.

Wasps really don’t give a shit about you and will ignore you if you don’t flap about. They will however try and swim in your Champagne. This is just a fact. Are you telling me that if there was a vat of bubbly in your back garden then you wouldn’t take a swim in it? C’mon.

Pigeons are fine. They aren’t doing you any harm and they are essentially working as unpaid volunteers for local council’s by cleaning up your food that you threw on the floor. Stop calling them rats with wings. Every time you say that it makes me think of actual rats with actual wings and that is terrifying because they are so much bigger in my imagination then they are in real life.

Tomato ketchup is boring and Brown Sauce is loads better, so there.

This week I have been mostly wearing… Pollen.

I’ll tell you this for free and all; getting your ass kicked by good weather feels like the greatest betrayal ever. I am of course referring to that most fucked-up of ailments; hay-fever. For the vast majority of people, the summer is a wonderful time (when it eventually decides to turn up, obviously) that heralds a season of lightweight, thinly woven casual-wear, outdoor drinking, bright evenings and an overall sense of warmth and promise. The same feelings are not shared by people afflicted with a medical aversion to the change of season, however. We still love the looks and feels of the place, but we just can’t be anywhere near it unless we have a regular 200 milligram course of antihistamines running through our systems to act as an Optimus Prime to natures evil Megatron.

This morning I awoke at some rarely seen hour to be greeted with a nose packed tighter than Beth Ditto in a pair of fashionably skinny jeans. My saliva levels were set as low as Gobi, and I was strongly considering severing my own head from my shoulders just for the flow of air to stand a fighting chance, but then thought better of it when I vaguely remembered some biology lesson from school pointing that out as being counter-productive to the overall welfare of the human body.

Instead I blew my nose. That worked just as well.

I’m sure nobody even noticed, but for about an hour quiteenjoy.co.uk was dead to the world. Brown should be along in a short while with an explanation.

- Jenkins

…Let it be known that it was because of this…