Floods! Which can mean only one thing. Canoeists! It’s almost as if the TV news is using library pictures from a bygone era when the obligatory grinning buffoon paddles in front of the cameras. No need to worry about the warnings of an appending climatical apolocolypse, no, not when you can get out in the pissing rain and paddle through raw sewage. Haven’t these people got anything else better to do? Maybe the idea of staying at home and watching it on TV seems a little conventional, especially when one can get out and be part of the fun.
Which incidentally reminds me of the time when we were little and it used to snow. Everyone used to pile up the recreation ground and sledge down the little hill onto the football pitch. Although there had to be one kid who turned up in skis wearing the full outfit, and what a load of shit it was too, a simple kitchen tray was much quicker.
Canoeists though, have always been a slightly strange breed, always skinny, probably with some wispy facial hair and permanently dressed in a blue Berghaus Fleece. The sort of people you see from the river bank on a tedious bank holiday in the countryside, I can almost imagine him now, floating past with a self satisfied grin, ‘Splendid day for it!! Good day to you!!’ Or walking about in the car park strapping the offending article to the top of an old Volvo, still wearing the spraydeck from under which his unusually small penis pokes through the damp neoprene.
So is that what happens to a canoeist when he sees everything his neighbours have spent their lives working for under six feet of shit stinking water? ‘Don’t worry too much about the displaced sweetheart, it’s quite cosy in the community centre…. I’ll pop down there in the canoe and see how they’re coping shall I?’ The thing is, it’s not just the canoeing in front of the camera like a smart arse is it? It’s the inane grin plastered across the smug face, ‘Not for me the folly of living at lower levels, the good canoeist know better!’
I have the solution
In the event of flooding a state of national emergency should be declared, which would include permission for any member of the Countryside Alliance to use whatever force necessary to sink any canoe on sight. Members holding a shotgun licence will have facility to call in air support from The Royal Air Force. So any event of Mr Smug turning up in a Kayak will be met by either the double barrels of a fat red faced bloke in a wax jacket, or a jolly good strafing from an Apache.