The continent is cracking. Not politically for once, but thermally. A heatwave of biblical proportions has descended upon the orderly lands of Germany, Denmark and the Czech Republic. Records are not just broken: they are pulverised into a fine dust, which then spontaneously combusts. In Berlin, the Reichstag’s thermometer has officially given up and wept a tiny glass tear. In Copenhagen, the Little Mermaid has been seen queuing for a slushie. In Prague, the astronomical clock is running two hours fast because its gears are sweating.
But fear not, dear reader. For in the midst of this continental sauna, a singular ray of hope has emerged. A beam of light. A pillar of meteorological might. British meteorological expertise has been consulted. Indeed, our nation’s finest weather boffins have been flown out to the affected regions, clutching their thermal mugs and looking slightly embarrassed. They have arrived, they have stared at the sun, they have muttered ‘a bit warm for the time of year’ and then they have been lauded. Yes, lauded. The Germans, with their usual efficiency, have erected a small plaque. The Danes have baked a cake in the shape of a barometer. The Czechs have named a tram stop after the Met Office.
The sheer absurdity of this cannot be overstated. This is a country where weather means ‘slightly damp’ or ‘perpetually grey’. Where a heatwave is defined as three consecutive days without a jumper. And yet here we are, exporting our meteorological wisdom to nations that have actual seasons. It is as if the Swiss were sending cheese-rolling consultants to France. Or the Belgians were advising on chocolate production. It is a triumph of branding over reality. A masterpiece of marketing.
But let us not be churlish. In a world of fake news and alternative facts, perhaps this is what we need. A bit of gentle British reassurance that, yes, the weather is indeed hot, and no, this is probably not a good thing. Our experts are now in emergency meetings, no doubt discussing whether to deploy the strategic reserve of sun cream. Or perhaps they are simply enjoying the free air conditioning in the German government buildings. Either way, they are being paid in sausages and lager, which is more than they ever got from the Daily Mail.
Meanwhile, back in Blighty, the nation is experiencing its own meteorological crisis: a mild breeze has caused a tube strike and the Daily Express has declared it the ‘End of Days’. But that is a story for another time. For now, let us celebrate our unlikely role as the world’s thermostat adjusters. Let us raise a lukewarm glass of Pimm’s to the great British weather expert: a man who can look at a cloud and tell you exactly which train will be delayed. Long may they swelter. And long may we advise.
