British Summertime – The Horrors of the Heat

Jumpers for goalposts. Juice and bits. Hide and seek. Hundreds and thousands.

The tender cacophony of the ice cream van as it beckons cheery children from their stately homes, distributing dairy products, heart attacks and nostalgia in equal measure.

The sweet smell of freshly cut grass as it lays strips up and down the fields, and invades the nostrils of your friends as they curse their Hay Fever affliction.

The glorious splendour of the setting sun as it scatters celestial orange light above and beyond what little cloud remains in the sky.

The British summer is a wonderful thing.

But as darkness comes and the sun cowers behind the horizon, the night lurches toward us. With it come all the horrors of the heat.

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Pointy-Toothed Prehistoric Sex Pests

Now I usually defecate at least once a day, sometimes twice depending on my meal intake, and when I do, I do what anyone else would given the circumstances – I read. Usually with any well-equipped British household there’s no shortage of reading material in the lavatory. From discarded magazines to spine-broken novels, the bathroom floor tiles of Casa del MacTingz is where paperbacks go to die. One such item has taken residence within my modest bathroom for some time now…

Living in harmony amongst this month’s Sky Magazines, this particular book has been a source of constant confusion for my already challenged mind. Every time I find myself sat atop the throne, I lift this humble slab of literature and begin to carelessly flick through the pages, skimming randomly and commencing my perusal of the content. Here I’m presented with my dilemma, for the subject matter within this novel is so lucid and thin, I don’t know whether to continue reading, or to use it as a substitute for my toilet roll. The item in question – Vampire Diaries: The Return – Shadow Souls.

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