The Beast from The East

I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I am with The Beast from The East. More a Pussy than a Beast.

We were promised howling winds and snowstorms and what do we get, a couple of pathetic Narnia type flurries and a snowball’s chance in hell of making a er…snowball. All in all, I feel cheated.

I was on standby, shovel in hand ready to clear driveways (for old people) and spread salt but nothing. I was ready to get the dogs out and build a log cabin if necessary but as I said…nothing, zilch. I’d wasted a whole day watching endless episodes of ‘Yukon men’ of whatever it’s called in the hope of picking up a few survival tips. The pages of notes I took on how to survive a week in a snow drift are of now of no use whatsoever. Did I say, how cheated I feel.

What use is a weather forecast if it’s all lies, rumours and false flags. I am so angry that I could write a letter of complaint to the BBC…in fact…

Dear BBC,

I wish to complain about the total inaccuracy of the weather forecast especially the bit that appertains to Stratford upon Avon. I have been watching the BBC for most of my life and it is obvious that standards have dropped tremendously. You should know that if Nadhim Zahawi wasn’t my MP I would write to him.

It is all very well using complicated graphics and attractive personnel (both men and women) to deliver the forecast, but the glamourous approach means nothing if what is delivered does not come to pass.  Your use of resident eye-candy i.e.

Carol Kirkwood  Shafali OzaThomasz Shafernaker

…(for the ladies and the homosexual population) are an obvious ploy to take our minds off the sad fact that predicting the weather is beyond you and your organisation. I am one of those not easily fooled and can see through your little game.

While I’m about it, I would also like to complain about the repartee that is commonly shared between newscaster and weather person and remind you that both parties have a serious job to do. I feel it would be wise to leave the jokes and light-hearted chatter to games show hosts and those paid vast amounts of license fee money, like Graham Norton.  I would feel better about the whole situation if you gave it up for a bad job and admitted you are devoid of any skill in the weather department.

I remain your obedient servant,

The Stratfordian.