Loving The British Summer Even Though It Lasts A Week

Summer, the magical time where skirts come up and underwear comes off and the perfect time for peadophilic behaviour and family getaways. Yes, we all know and love the season of happiness, the season of joy, the time of year where staring at dat ass is not only acceptable, it’s a custom.

The British weather at its best, still pretty damn crap, but nevertheless at its best. Countless teenagers sitting around at home without a single thing to do.  For this summer I have decided to become a full blown hippie, that’s right ladies and gentlemen I’m all about meditating and drinking happy tea and stopping to appreciate that someone has not yet bashed my head against the wall and dragged my  lifeless carcass into a dark alley.  Although sometimes I imagine a happier world where that happens and I wake up normal again, my head full of sarcastic comments and ad hominem one liners.

The first word that comes into people’s head is hot weather, but not here my dear readers, living in the UK gives you the magical advantage of being freezing cold, wet and still see EVERYTHING. And I mean everything. So what can an average teenager get up to over the beauty that we call summer? Either follow everyone to festivals like the good little sheep they are or get pissed out if their mind and get pregnant before the school year begins. Or like me, stay in their dark hole and get as fat as they can before they force themselves to look into a mirror and regret not becoming a hipster earlier. Now get out.


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