Simmering tensions

- Seen the state of the grass?! What the fock is the council doing? 
- Grass, what grass? Oh, you mean that strip of scorched dirt we're burning our flippers on? 
- Haven't seen a worm in weeks, they love their heavy showers the little buggers.
- Same here. Besides the overflowing bins because of the increase in the number of sea-side revelers, I have been struggling. It's mostly cans and empty bottles anyway. Or spilled sun lotion, and it tastes shite. 
- Yep, my staple food has been the beach-party puddle of puke. But you have to be dead fast. It is so hot, and devoid of humidity, that it dries into a solid pancake embedded in the ground in no time. I've chipped my beak three times in the last week, trying to chisel out some Cider Bolognese a la Gastric Sauce. 
- Thought I'd never ever say that, but where is the focking rain?
- Yes, and what are them lazy useless bollixes from the council doing?
- They've all switched their Out of Office automatic reply on, and they are toasting their nuts at Seapoint. Shower of wankers... 
- When what we want is a shower. Full stop.