I INTENDED to write about something deeply relevant and of high public interest this week, delivering 300 words of insightful, witty comment. But then the heat wave arrived and all power of intelligent thought vanished in a turbo-charged blast from the airconditioner.

"Why is it so (various expletives here) hot"? has been a common refrain since the mercury got higher last weekend than Wayne Carey’s legal bills.

Why indeed? There seems very little point to it and few advantages. But if it keeps up, I hope we do enjoy some benefits. Like:

. Co-ordination-challenged walkers who don’t think it’s their job to look where they put their feet stay inside and stop tripping over footpaths.

. The Taipans and Northern Pride hold an impromptu joint training session in the esplanade lagoon, just when I happen to be sitting by.

. Anyone who does venture outdoors does so only to dash to the shops, spend up a storm and save the economy.

. All party-goers strip off inconveniently stifling items like clothes and hit the town in nothing but underwear. Cringe-worthy wannabes henceforth find they’re not such a novelty.

. It’s officially declared too hot to work and we can all stay at home eating icy poles.

. The entire population of cane toads suffer heat stroke and go belly up.

. Door-to-door sales people think better of harassing us and spend their shift in the pub watching the cricket.

. The wires in every public sound system in the city melt, causing broadcasts of Christmas carols to be abandoned before someone, somewhere, finally flips after hearing jingle bells one time too many times and goes on a murderous rampage.

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