The weather today hit about 38 degrees Celsius. I swear to fucking God it was the only thing I heard about all day from anyone. It’s amazing how variable weather, good or bad, can completely dominate conversation when it rears its head. I spent the majority of the day suffering through pearlers like the one liners listed below. My ideal responses are bracketed…

“Aww, how hot is it today?!”
(Yes, it’s fucking hot. Thanks, Captain Obvious. For your next big revelation, perhaps tell me what colour the grass or sky is, you cunt.)

“Wow, it’s so warm, I can’t believe how warm it is!”

(I’m unsure how it’s possible for you to not believe that it’s hot today, considering you’ve just stated that it is hot. If you feel hot, you are hot, your sweat isn’t some strange abstract construct that your sub-conscious has subtly dreamt up to confuse you, you cunt).


“Bad suit weather today, hey!”

(Yes, yes it fucking is. It’s a shame we work in an industry where wearing a suit is compulsory. Take your jacket off and roll your sleeves up, you cunt.)


I mean, sure, I understand the fascination with downright ludicrously hot weather, and I’m really just being a cunt with the commentary above, but hot days aren’t that exciting, they’re just kind of fucking annoying. There are those who merely comment on the heat, and to be honest, they’re fine, but the worst types are those that complain about it being too hot in summer, but then complain about it being too cold in winter. MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND ALREADY! Seriously, is there no time of the year where these people pause for a moment and proclaim, “You know what? This is really appropriate weather and I am enjoying it immensely! Thanks, Earth!”

Then there are the bastions of people who say, “Geez I wish it was this hot all year ‘round, it’d be great!”


I was out in the Yarra Valley this afternoon and there were these baby sheep (lambs, right?) that were seriously battling in the heat. Their baas were more screams of pain than friendly greeting. You can’t have little lambies getting cooked just because you like having an after-work beer in a Bintang Beer singlet with your feet in a kiddie pool now full of ice-water, can we?

To be honest, give me about 25 degrees with a nice off-shore coastal sea breeze and I’m right. Anything above that and I turn into a bit of a cunt (see above).

/end communication