Return Of The Beast

I waled past Sainsbury’s this afternoon, on the way to work. I’m not entirely sure why I did, because it’s the longest route from the bus station to where I wanted to be – which is to say, work – but I did it anyway.

As I walked past I happened to glance through the doors, strangely devoid of and clusters of chatting pensioners, and saw scenes of chaos inside.

Now it might just be that it was a Friday afternoon, but I’m not sure that is the reason. Or not wholly, at least.

It’s the Beast again. Not the guy off of The Chase. I mean the Beast From The East. The terrifying blast of weather, that is, rather than alleged KGB-types poisoning people in the street. Allegedly.

Yup, the Beast From The East is returning. Well, technically it’s a different Beast but once you’ve come up with a snazzy title the media love (see also “Pest From The West”) you’ve really got to go with it.

The Beast is due to hit tonight, so panic buying of the essentials is taking place in earnest. People are stocking up on bread. Lots of bread. Because if you want to survive being snowed in toast and/or sandwiches are the way to do it. Either that or you get so pissing sick of eating the same stuff day in and day out that you dig yourself out of your snow-locked property powered only by crusts and desperation.

It amuses me – much to Carole’s annoyance – how much we go to pot in the snow. It’s not even snow like we used to have it, but everything grinds to a halt. Communities start eating each other, uneducated kids run feral. It’s the apocalypse in snow form. The snowpocalypse as people call it.

People can blow themselves up at pop concerts or drive vans into groups of pedestrians and we, as a country, stand firm. We won’t let terrorism beat us, we say. People defiantly walk where vans were driven to show that we will not be swayed. Everyone changes their Facebook picture in solidarity. It makes you proud.

And then it snows and everyone goes to pot. The country grinds to a halt. Favebook becomes awash with people taking pictures of the gardens or roads adjacent to their properties. People refuse to go out,

If ISIS turn up with a snowball, we’re buggered.