The guy who came in from the cold

During the new year’s cold weather, Paul Carter found himself a prisoner in his own home with only Hilary Benn to provide crumbs of cold comfort

A cursory glance out of my window reveals that conditions outside are still more icy tundra than north London, which means I’m likely to be facing my third successive day confined inside. (I hesitate to use the word “housebound”, as that throws up images of stairlifts and cats and I’m not quite there yet.) Reason being is that me and ice, snow or variations thereof are not the best of bedfellows.

I think it’s largely a psychological thing. If I had three days to myself and it wasn’t covered in snow and ice outside, I still probably wouldn’t leave the house. Now I’m actually forced to stay inside however, I think I’m going a little stir crazy.

I’ve already begun drawing up elaborate plans to construct some form of wind-driven sailing sledge operated by pulleys, which can be built from coat-hangers, the wheels off the hoover and some rather disturbing looking string I found down the back of the sofa. I need some means of getting to the shops. Or pub. Ok pub.

As I write this, Hilary Benn, who is the environment secretary is wittering on during a television interview about all the wonderful plans and procedures the Government has in place to help everyone survive this new ice age. Sounds good.

Except, hang on, he seems to be telling us that the Government doesn’t have much of a plan for us disabled folk if the snowpocalypse continues.

Asked whether more could perhaps be done to help us poor unfortunates who are stuck inside with only Jeremy Kyle for company, he pretty much just said that we’ll be ok, because after all, the Government have already paid out cold weather payments. Pretty rich considering that we don’t qualify for them and cold comfort indeed, especially coming from a man who looks less like a man to lead us out of a crisis and more like a geography teacher who any minute is about to launch into a load of old guff about oxbow lakes and footpath erosion.

Thanks Mr Benn. I’m sure people across the country will now sleep much happier knowing that if the ice does force them to begin eating their own furniture in the desperate, life-prolonging search for calories, then at least they’ll be able to do so with the central heating cranked up a notch. So if nobody has heard from me by next week, be so kind as to order a pizza for me. Tell them to ring the top buzzer. Anyway, must dash. I need to marinate the wardrobe.