Rain, rain, go away

It's been going on way too long, now. This November rain is as incessant and tedious as the godforsaken Guns 'n Roses song it invokes. 'I need some time on my own', sings old Squeaky Twat, in his skintight cycling pants. Be my guest!

'Why Does It Always Rain On Me?' is a much nicer song, although I'm sick of getting the urge to sing it every time I set foot outdoors. Knowing my luck, even if it started raining men, I'd end up with beer-bellied munters with copious amounts of nasal and ear hair, falling out of the sky. Worse still, the fattest of the lot would probably land on me and crush me to death.

Yeah, you've got it - Sianikatt is bored and slowly going stir crazy in a world of perpetual rain and mid-afternoon nightfall. It's like something from a Stephen King or Dean Koontz novel, where daylight rarely comes, and when it does, it's blighted by toxic rain and alien creatures waiting to pounce. Okay, so I made the alien creatures bit up. Then again, have you walked along Wind Street on a weekend? Let us all pray to the sun gods, and hope the rain gods pee off to Papua New Guinea or somewhere equally distant.