Sorry Annie, The Sun Can’t Come Out Tomorrow, Haven’t You Heard Of Climate Change?

As Britain continues to move from the not-so-sublime to the utterly ridiculous, we are once again reminded of how we are on a one-way track to misery, with no sign of slowing down.

The last couple of days have seen the news filled with headlines that would make even cheery orphan Annie put down the mop and turn her tattered garms into a makeshift noose. In a bid to address climate change, the sun has now been deemed persona non grata, and we must at once begin the geoengineering to thicken those pesky translucent clouds. This is, of course, an understandable priority for the British government, and I, for one, am appalled that something hasn’t been implemented sooner. On those rare warm summer days, I can’t bring myself to enjoy a picnic or beer garden, for I am paralysed with guilt at the damage being done to our planet. Future generations will rightfully demand our attendance at The Hague, ready to face justice for our senseless hedonism. Forgive me, for I know not what I have done.

Can we have anything in this country without it being immediately ruined, controlled, or diluted beyond recognition? I often moan about the state of Britain, sometimes in jest, and sometimes for more serious reasons, yet the underlying belief is that in a time where a boost of morale is so desperately needed, we seem hell-bent on making our lives as unpleasant as possible. Everything is expensive and poor quality. If you can get a job, it's likely underpaid and underappreciated, the media you consume is watered down, and your social media feeds iterate between war, suffering, and stupidity. Any source of true happiness, or even just a boost of dopamine, is in short supply, so when that is threatened, it is no wonder that people are up in arms.

As you can probably tell, my issue is not with the efficacy of this planned weather experimentation, I don’t profess to understand the science behind it, and I am sure the near-apocalyptic coverage is overblown. That being said, I think it speaks to a far deeper issue within our society that a story such as this, even when reported under alarming headlines, is met with a sad acceptance of this new reality. For most of the population, the idea that the government would now artificially hinder our already pathetically limited summers in the pursuit of climate change reversal elicits no more than a shrug. It's par for the course at this point. It would be equally unsurprising to learn that laughing past six o’clock will now result in a fine, or that a licence fee is needed to purchase a birthday cake. We are so used to policies and measures that are at the antithesis of public benefit that the more ridiculous they seem, the more likely they are to be widely introduced in the near future.

There will, of course, be those who are desperate to defend even the most absurd legislation, for the purposes of political point-scoring, pathetic contrarianism, or just to be annoying on social media. I’m sure even this lamentation will encourage many such types to come out from the woodwork and claim that it was always this way, that actually the sun is far too bright anyway, or that we should be grateful for what we have now and shouldn’t dare dream of sunnier days as there are people in the north pole who have none. It is this attitude that has got us to where we are today, an acceptance of societal degradation, a sense of ambivalence at every new measure that aims to restrict and hinder. It is time to ignore these irritating specimens and let them self-restrict to the point of non-existence in their echo chambers.

For what it's worth, I am not a pessimist, I am simply an optimist tired of disappointment. The war against joy has been waged relentlessly by those in power, and with the opposition severely lacking in ammunition, they have continued to gain ground. We are quickly becoming a demoralised populace, whose hopes and dreams lie in tatters. First they came for the plastic straws and I did nothing, next they came for the sun.