Going insane with excitement while panicking about your commute: five British reactions to the snow

SNOW is so rare and unprecedented in Britain that it sparks reactions of confusion, hysteria and wide-eyed excitement. Look out for these: 

Regressing to childhood

Even the most sober and mature Britons reconnect with their inner eight-year-old when snow falls and, crucially, sticks. They’ll have a Scroogian epiphany and rush out to build snowmen and speed downhill on sledges, until it melts and they revert to being dreary morose arseholes.

Panicking that you’ll never make it home

The meeting of snow and train strikes, which aren’t on but the trains are so f**ked they might as well be, triggers dread even though it isn’t even lunch yet and you live round the corner. Head home at noon and call in at your local, where you spend the afternoon sinking pints hoping you’ll get snowed in.

Going insane with excitement

Most countries on our latitude greet snow with a shrug, ie Scotland. Not England. At the first flurry we bolt into the streets naked to bellow our euphoria at the grey heavens for their blessing of ice crystals. If snow is forecast at or near Christmas we’re all so flooded with adrenalin we might die.

Going full doomsday prepper

Who knows how long the light dusting of snow that’s already thawing could last? Minutes? Hours? Maybe even two days? You’ve got no choice but to post an armed guard on the grit bin and raid Tesco for bread, milk and tinned foods. These resources could be a precious commodity in the distant future of tomorrow.

Aggressively not giving a f**k

Maybe it’s not snowing where you are. Or maybe you remember snow becoming a grey slush after a few hours, like last time. Either way, being committed to not giving a f**k about the snow is another classic British reaction. And sharing it to social media shows everyone how fiercely unbothered and intellectually superior you are.

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Owners of massive open-plan Grand Designs-style house f**king freezing

A COUPLE in a wonderfully open-plan home with double-height ceilings and huge glass windows are freezing their bollocks off. 

Having spent £450,000 remodelling a 1950s bungalow into their modernist dream home, Tom and Nadine Booker have belatedly realised that underlit cupboards and a Shaker-style kitchen island are helpless to ward off frostbite.

Tom Booker said: “Radiators are ugly. We didn’t want them spoiling our views of the South Downs. But it turns out underfloor heating has its f**king limits.

“In a house that’s 70 per cent windows we can only see the views if we spend two hours mopping condensation off the glass, and even then it’s whiteness, fog, and locals walking their dogs laughing at us in our coats and hats and duvets.”

Nadine added: “Our bath’s carved from a single piece of marble. It costs £100 to fill and it never stops being cold to the touch, even when you’re in it. We also have an artisanal table made from reclaimed scaffolding boards. I think about burning it for warmth.

“What we really need is a series of small, cosy rooms with low ceilings, like the bungalow we knocked down to make this massive, f**k-off ice-cold aircraft hanger.

“Bollocks to this. We’re moving back into the caravan. It was warmer.”