TEMPTED by the gleaming blue-ish waters of the British seaside on this sunny day? Remind yourself of what a bad idea that is before you plunge in:
It’s f**king freezing
Human eyes can’t see into infra-red, so we can’t see temperature. But unlike the warming waters of the Med or the soothing Aegean, British waters are uniformly freezing. Even in a wetsuit you won’t last ten minutes. Without one you’ll pass the bollock barrier then die.
Sewage, of course
You’d have to live under a rock like a shit-eating crab to have missed the news about the statistically ludicrous streams of excrement pumped into our sea. Doing breaststroke while a tampon nudges your wrist is a horror story. Swallow a mouthful of water and you’re patient zero of a cholera epidemic.
Spiky things
Other countries have nice soft sand, but the British seaside is home to more abrasive rocks than a yoga studio’s water fountain. There’s also broken glass, marine debris and, thanks to global warming, sea urchins. Walking in is akin to walking over hot coals, except cold.
Hostile slimy things
Who knows what truly lurks beneath the waves? At any moment you could be touched by a jellyfish, or a plastic bag you mistook for one. And there’s the endless tide of seaweed embracing your ankles like living litter. A good honest shark would be preferable to the stealthy caresses of the unknown.
Wild swimmers
And there’s a human peril. Flocks of trend-following Guardian readers hitting the waves claiming to find life-enhancing delight in their grey churning. These people will extol the benefits of wild swimming while wild swimming, making your brief paddle nauseatingly virtuous.
You might accidentally be mistaken for a refugee
With the political climate as it is, hovering near the coastline without your birth certificate in a waterproof pouch is dangerous. Add in a flotation device, even if it is a pink flamingo, and you’re a scourge invading Britain. Next stop Kigali.
