Below is a mash-up of precis* of two comments I spotted I remember not when nor where. Apologies.
We live on wot is, in the grand scheme of things, a small speck of stone that is not only spinning on its own axis at 1000mph, but is also hurtling through space at 67,000mph.
Most of this speck of dust is a molten rock mantle with an iron core that is a cosy 5,200 degrees Celsius.
The bit we live on is floating on the surface of this magma and is fractured into various plates, of various thickness's, which are constantly moving around.
Add to this all the fissures periodically releasing varying amounts of the core’s contents and you can see how fragile wot we chance to call home really is.
Let’s not forget that big shiny thingy up there radiating vast amounts of heat our way, alternating, over time, from very hot to not so hot.
Then consider wot ‘they up there’ tell us; that even though we’re an island, it’s extremely complex and almost impossible to stop or control the arrival of gimmigrants landing on our beaches but, like, totally reasonable to assume ‘we’ can control the climate.
Further proof, should any be needed, that ‘they’ really don’t listen to themselves.
*For younger readers, this means... wot the hay, ask your teacher. Pardon? Oh. Ask that tin can in the corner then. Didn’t work you say? You may have pronounced it incorrectly. Say wot now? Wot does ‘pronounced’ mean? Damn! I’m out o’ here.
Quote; Mark Twain.
“Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.”
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