On my hatred of snow

I hate snow. It’s horrible stuff that sticks to the underside of your feet, like mud during a heavy rainfall in a field. Don’t people know where it comes from? During the night giant pigeons (the size of Volkswagens) float menacingly down our streets, cooing in their own revolting way. They then proceed to excrete on the lanes, lawns and byways of our villages and towns. Though these are cold loads rather then the usual warm muck you see on windscreens, you can see the chaos it causes. These are a different kind of pigeon I should mention; these are ancient avians with frost on their beaks and knowledge as old as the universe in their raisin black eyes. They drop this tip-ex whiteness down, blanking out what they regard as a mistake. That means us. Humans are wholly unacceptable to them. Of all the species whose civilisations have touched this earth, the humans are the ones they hate the most. This is mainly because we don’t feed them I expect.