Back in the day the only weather concern people had was if it was going to kill you or not. Ideally it would not kill you, but perhaps would kill one or two of your weaker children, freeing up valuable time and resources and putting some food in stock at the same time.

People didn’t really care if it was, on record, the hottest June day since 1300BC as records didn’t exist, and neither did June. Weather records exist only to fill newspaper column inches and, by proxy, sell more pot noodles for advertisers. Weather records are the pot noodle advertising execs closest ally and best friend.

The hottest September day since Pot Noodle marketing began seems like a good day to eat sushi, a dish that, much like revenge, is best served cold.

As any Japanese schoolchild will tell you, the best preparation for sushi is a couple of pints of overpriced European Lager. So it’s on Whitecross St, outside the Two Brewers in the death of anaemic first born heat that this obligation is fulfilled.

The typical clientele of the Two Brewers are the sort of people you might telephone to check that you’ll still receive your child tax credit even though you’ve moved in with Nick Knowles. Sometimes you’ll run into their managers, who look like Nick Knowles.

It’s a hot evening, and people spill out onto Whitecross to check on the status of their first borns and before you know it you are Nick Knowles, divorcing the summer.

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