As water companies imposed hosepipe bans on the drought-struck south east, a furious Middle England took time out from demanding the immediate return of last weekend’s unseasonal sunshine to turn on all the taps in a spontaneous act of principled defiance against corporate bully boys, prudence and all reason.
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| This is what Britain should be like, but with a car wash and a jacuzzi |
“How bastard dare these profiteering, jumped-up gauleiters from Thames Water tell me I can’t fill up my swimming pool on the off-chance that I might want to freeze my bollocks off in the middle of a downpour?” seethed Rob Blind, a jumped-up senior profiteer at Gauleiter Bank AG’s London office, as he truculently scoured his BMW Z4 convertible down to the bare metal in a maniacal frenzy of repetitive car-washing disorder. “It’s my sodding water, I’m bloody paying through the nose for it, so I’ll do whatever I damn well like with it.”
“If there’s such a desperate shortage, why don’t they just cut off Peckham?” he demanded. “They can put their precious standpipes outside the Jobcentres and the magistrates’ courts. That sort are used to queueing, aren’t they?”
“Damn and blast it, it’s spitting with rain again!” he roared obsessively. “Now I’ll have to wash all those spots off my car’s newly-exposed bodywork before the bloody thing collapses in a heap of rust. Why isn’t the sun shining? Call this summer? How am I supposed to fill a car with water with the bloody roof up?”
“Pass me that goddamned hose again!” he screamed.
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