Tarquin, get your wellies on, angel, we're off to visit grandpa. Heaven only knows what's happening with the flooding. It has been an absolute disgrace – all the water everywhere and not a soul to help. I mean, gosh, it's not as if we don't have rain in this country, but a few days in a row and the whole place grinds to a standstill. It was the same with the wind before Christmas. It got a teensy-weensy bit blowy and, all of a sudden, the whole nation is in utter chaos. No trains, no roads, no airplanes – thank goodness for the four wheel drive, that's what I say. All those poor souls, stranded in the middle of nowhere over Christmas, it is an absolute shame. Some of them didn't even have electricity so I expect their Christmas trees were a bit drab without the lights. Of course, I blame the authorities. They should be doing something. Well, I don't know what exactly, Tarquin, but something. Surely they can clear the water or stop it before it starts to damage property – an Englishman's home is his castle, you know. I bet the council would be round bailing out with their buckets if it was David Cameron's house flooding. What's that, Tarquin? What do you mean Act of God? Well, yes, technically I accept the council can't actually stop the rain, but I'm sure they could be helping. Never mind arguing with me, just get your wellies. Tarquin, come on.