Ah, pleather. The all-year round fabric! Suave, luxurious, keeps the sweat inside.
It's meant to be 33 degrees celcius tomorrow, according to the "weatherman", which is obscene - especially considering that for most of the year, my kitchen maintains an ambient temperature very close to that of the outdoors, a temperature that has traditionally proved hospitable for such arctic beasts as the "hoth wampa". With carbon trading on the agenda, why can't I shift ten of those degrees to a miserable day in November? Come on people, we're civilised now. These things can happen.
In the illustration above, the hoth wampa has interrupted my preparation of a delicious lamb chop and is dragging me towards a thorough duffing up.