MY, did I chuckle at Bank Holiday Monday’s doom-laden announcement that the UK had just had its hottest ever May day – ‘Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!’ – on record. At Heathrow Airport. Excuse me, but I think you could record the hottest ever day every day if you held a thermometer close enough to a jumbo jet’s backside, which is what measuring temperatures at Heathrow amounts to.

Remember that ‘record’ 40.3C from July 2022? Measured alongside a runway at RAF Coningsby as fighter jets were landing and taking off? And a temperature that both rose and fell significantly within minutes? I had to quit my laughing on Monday however as an older citizen innocently setting out for a pleasant summer walk suddenly collapsed with heatstroke and I ran to help. Too late, dead as a dodo. I looked around.

Bodies everywhere! Just as the Met Office, NHS, media and every fear-mongering busybody organisation in the nation had predicted.

No, of course people weren’t dropping dead in the balmy midday sun. But the credulous pronouncements did bring back fond memories of a conversation with my late, much-loved mum in May 1982. I was in Palm Springs, California, and ‘hot’ there is something else altogether. I’d just got back from a five-mile desert run and was on my weekly phone call back to Yorkshire. ‘Mum,’ I said, ‘it’s a bit warm over here, 110 degrees [43ºC] in the shade!’ With the sagacity of her generation, mum chided me: ‘Son, you need to stay out of that shade!’

Read More – Summer scaremongering from the ‘over heated’ climate change cabal