In a development that has stunned precisely nobody, France has officially declared a national health crisis among its youth, blaming a heatwave that is currently shuffling eastward like a tourist looking for a cheap rosé. The French government, in a statement read by a man whose tie was noticeably looser than regulations allow, warned that the nation's young people are 'at grave risk from the heat' – a risk presumably compounded by their insistence on wearing black turtlenecks in August.
Meanwhile, the UK Met Office, never one to be left out of a meteorological panic, has issued guidance. This guidance, scrawled on what looks like a napkin from a Wetherspoons, advises citizens to 'stay hydrated, avoid the sun between 11am and 3pm, and check on elderly relatives'. It also recommends, in a section that seems to have been added by an intern, that people 'consider not setting themselves on fire'.
Let us be clear: this heatwave is not a natural disaster. It is a political statement. The continent is being cooked by decades of carbon-spewing complacency, and all our leaders can do is tell us to drink more water. France's youth health crisis is simply the latest symptom of a Europe that has collectively decided air conditioning is a luxury for the bourgeoisie.
I rang my contact at the Met Office, a man named Gareth whose job title is 'Chief Acronym Officer'. He confirmed that the 'amber warning' is basically a weatherman's way of saying 'it's quite warm, isn't it?'. 'We considered using the new purple warning level,' he said, 'but that would require us to admit it's actually happening.'
The eastward shift is of particular note. It is as if the heatwave is looking for a better class of misery. It has already done its worst in France, where it caused a run on baguettes – not for eating, but for fanning oneself. Now it heads to Germany, where it will be met with stoic efficiency and a lot of sausages.
And what of Britain? We are currently in the 'pre-warning' phase, which is basically a two-day period where everyone on Twitter announces they are 'melting'. The BBC has already dispatched a reporter to a beach in Cornwall to stand next to a thermometer. The government has not declared a crisis because that would imply a sense of urgency, and that is simply not how we do things.
Let us not forget the real story here: the total and utter failure of our political classes to address climate change. Instead, they hand out these pathetic little pieces of advice like they are doing something. 'Stay hydrated' is not a policy. 'Check on your neighbour' is not a treaty. We need action, not guidance. But action requires funding, and funding requires taxes, and taxes require the sort of political courage that has been in short supply since about 1982.
In the meantime, I will be in the pub. They have air conditioning. And gin. And a total disregard for health guidance. Which is, frankly, the only sensible response to a crisis of this magnitude.
