The sunny weather has triggered a terrifying creature to surface for the first time in a while – the unpleasantly underdressed human has risen. Be afraid.
I truly cannot fault nature’s ability to amaze. Just when we’d all started thinking we would never again experience sun, warmth, blue skies, and all those other nearly-forgotten things, along come high temperatures and the unmistakable smell of several fields-worth of meat being inadequately cooked on a barbeque.
Whilst there are many good things about this... shall we call it ‘Summer’..? one of it’s more unsavoury side-effects is causing otherwise rational people to forget they live in the middle of a town, not the middle of a beach, and suddenly shed clothing like it’s on fire. The subsequent exposure of acres of white skin, quite a bit of which seems to be attempting to spill over the top of the remaining items (which were already having a tough time stretching themselves out sufficiently to prevent embarrassment), is enough to make you drop your dangerously melting ice cream into your lap. That’s where I’m saying that mark came from, anyway.
I can only assume that the introduction of sunlight has a detrimental effect on some people’s brains, causing them to step out in ill-judged, inappropriate, or just downright unflattering apparel. It must also cause folks to forget where their mirror is, judging by some of the shocks I’ve received, as my eyeballs and sense of decency have been viciously assaulted by plump people wearing items that look like they might have fitted once, but only when they were 12.
Gents – you can go without a shirt on the beach, at bedtime, and even in the comfort of your own home, but not in the street. Contrary to what you might believe, only about one in a thousand of you look ripped and rugged; the rest of you look like you’ve been over-inflated, and then sprayed red. And ladies – it’s warm enough to dispense with the Ugg Boots now, honestly. Your feet must have all the sophisticated charm of a fire in a Stilton factory.
And then there’s this other fascination (largely by young women, to be fair) of being orange. A natural tan will always leave some areas of us slightly lighter than others, due to the angle at which we naturally present ourselves to the sun. It’s never even all over, and generally not quite that Satsuma-toned. It’s jolly sensible not to get sunburnt (which is another thing that, like clothing, seems to get lost at the first hint of a heatwave), but some of you look like you’ve spent the night rolling on the floor of the Cheesy Wotsits factory, and all that make-up must cost a fortune. Not to mention the cost of hiring the cement mixer.
Right. I’m off to slap the Factor 50 on, and go nude sunbathing on the front at Arnside. That reminds me... must put another chipolata on the barbeque.
This post first appeared in my 'Thank grumpy it's Friday' column in the North West Evening Mail on the 12th of July 2013, where it was retitled 'Sun exposes naked truth'. You can see the column on their website here
Remarkably, it went in unedited, including two slightly cheeky puns, which they normally seem to avoid. Maybe they were just too subtle this time, or the sub-ed was on holiday. It originally had an extra paragraph, but this took it way over my word count limit, so it got deleted. I should have saved it for you, shouldn't I? Sorry about that.
(In my teensy, meltingly-hot office, Midge Ure is currently keeping me company with his "Little Orphans" album.)
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