Sky News tells me that despite bitterly cold temperatures global warming is real and continues unabated. They're full of it and Al Gore is a psychotic hypocritical windbag; but I say bring it on as I turn up the thermostat a notch and pour another scotch to fend off the chill night air.
The thought of a balmy summer afternoon takes over and the vision of bikini-clad women with beads of perspiration rolling slowly down cleavage peaks my interest.
I imagine English lasses stripped down to their Maidenforms and lounging provocatively along the banks of the Serpentine, a packet of fags and last weeks' "Hello" magazine close by, the pages turning in the lazy breeze.
An overworked "Girl Friday" is daydreaming her way through a sunny lunch hour, her otherwise completely empty head awash with visions of Brad Pitt and Agent Provocateur underwear. The excitement of her stockpiled luncheon vouchers and the approaching weekend of binge drinking and dogging builds to a fever pitch as she rolls over for another fifteen minutes and pulls her panties out of her ass.
I begin to wonder if it is not the imperceptible rise in temperature that led Britney Spears to forgo her knickers on so many occasions, subconsciously opting for the cooling sensation of the night air gently wafting around her exposed genitalia as she exited limo after limo, night after booze sodden night. My sister's Barbie doll didn't look at all like that.
There is no such thing as bad publicity though and the exposure given to the pop tart's privates was extensive to say the least. Whether or not this helps or hurts her career in the long run remains to be seen, but If it helps it will have been a cunning stunt indeed. Global Warming, I'll drink to that.
Wickham Chase, Staff Reporter