Only Pr**ks Wear Shorts in the Winter

1. Only Pricks Wear Shorts in the Winter

The weather is nice today, let's hope it stays that way. Knowing Britain it’ll probably start snowing in an hour, how is it where you are? 

Please excuse my small talk, although I felt making small talk with my fellow reader would be a good way of breaking the ice and what better choice of topic than the weather; the greatest of the smallest of talks. 

I find it a particularly British phenomenon when people wear unsuitable clothing or are inappropriately equipped for the type of weather they face that day, but I’d like to make it clear that this is not what gets on my nerves, if anything I would even go as far as saying that I can respect it. For instance, when it is tipping it down with rain you’ll see people running, desperately sheltering under whatever they are carrying; books, bags, small children or sort of creating a sad canape out of a jumper that they lazily droop over their heads and fight in the wind as to not be blindfolded by their soggy shield. The Brits will resort to all sorts of things before they turn to the dreaded umbrella, almost as if reaching for it means accepting defeat and succumbing to the reality of dull British weather. This stubborn refusal and neglect of the umbrella is a case of classic British optimism, a powerful force that seemingly never dies despite the weather punishing them for it each time. Anyways, arriving somewhere half-soaked can make for some quality small talk about what a pain the weather is, leading to someone eagerly jumping at the opportunity to recycle a ‘funny’ weather remark they have heard and stored for use during future small talk, something like, ‘I’ll be swimming home if this rain carries on’, leading to a ripple of laughs from listeners despite the fact they have been victim to these jokes far too many times before; but I digress. On the other hand, I can also tolerate those who come over-prepared in nice weather, wearing stuffy jackets in what is clearly no-coat weather because this is a case of classic British pessimism, harboured by those who rather than fearing British weather, just expect it, in all its wet, grey glory. These are the same people who instead of being delighted when their pessimistic views of the weather are crushed by the unexpected blue sky, would rather intensify their negativity and seethe with anger at the weather-man, the root of all their troubles, who was wrong yet again. 

However, what I cannot and refuse to wrap my head around are those who wear shorts in the Winter, or rather the technical term for them, ‘pricks’. These are the same breed of human (and I use the word human lightly) who spit onto the pavement to prove their superiority over the concrete floor to everyone around or who after finishing a canned drink (presumable an energy drink as they need the boost after a hard day’s work of putting pavements in their place) are suddenly consumed by the urge to destroy the empty can in any way possible. They become possessed, squashing and twisting the metal remains, in an attempt to humiliate it, belittle the can and teach it a lesson for running out of liquid. They walk around in their shorts (or rather speed walk to get out of the cold as quickly as possible), elbows protruding onto either side of the path, with their pale white calves covered in goosebumps, sticking out like sore thumbs and blinding anyone within a mile’s radius. What’s worse is that they don’t commit their unexplainable idiocy, instead they accompany the shorts with a big, puffy coat and sometimes a hat in order to bury their smug looks, proud of their legs on show. It’s like if a person in camouflage were to dye their hair neon pink, or if a blind person were to install mirrors in their house.