We Don't Beat Nature, We Just Argue Over pointless Stuff Instead.

        Last week, over here in the UK we experienced about seven days of weather that a Canadian would call "whimpy". We experienced a grand total (where I live) of maybe three or four inches of crunchy snow, and this was sufficient to make everyone give up and cower in fear under their duvets. Ever wonder why schools close whenever it snows more than 3.5mm? It's not to do with "safety", it's either because so many people have called a snow-day that they can't open or something mechanical and water-based has had the same idea. Kind of makes me wonder how they get on in places with real snowfalls, like this one. That's two feet of snow, right there! What about this here? Just over two feet of snow in just over a day. This isn't even in the far reaches of Siberia, this is in Maryland, USA! I'm reasonably convinced they don't shut down the state and declare rule of the jungle until they can plow their way through it, and yet we go into a mild panic as soon as the first flake hits the ground, normally only ending up with the same effect you get when you sieve icing sugar over a Victoria Sponge: it looks pretty, but is hardly noticeable. What about countries where they have "real" weather, like Kansas where summer consists of baking heat, sudden downpours and lack of humidity. Oh, and freaking huge tornadoes that blow through occasionally. Or Siberia, say. They get the joy of an average winter temperature of -20c! In fact, northern Siberia is so cold, the soil is permanently frozen, which must be utterly hilarious if you're a grave-digger. Or Alan Titchmarsh.


        However, one of the useful skills that we humans have learned in our many tens of thousands of years in existing, besides sudoku and texting, is how to "beat" nature. I mean, last week when it was -12c (what the Canadians would call "just about long-sleeve" weather) I was able to sit down in glorious 18c heat inside my house. From there, I could happily cook an entire bacon sandwich without having to either start a fire in the snow, or hunt a pig. I could learn of the unfolding weather conditions not by doing anything as arbitrary as looking out the window like some feral caveman, but by looking on the Internet at people's reactions, or time-lapse videos. I can follow this demonstration of the mastery of nature by following my sandwich with an orange; something that someone (probably) called Pablo has grown in southern Spain for my eating delight, and now it's here, in the UK, sitting in the warmth with me as it snows a little outside. Take that, nature! Sure, a polar bear might be all fluffy and find the chill somewhat entertaining while it drinks Coke and stands atop a giant mint, but can it build an Xbox? I don't think so. What was that, Mr Camel? You keep nearly all your body fat in your hump? Well, I'll just have to console my self with my opposable thumbs, won't I. Yes, Mr Deer, your antlers are pretty, but my car has ABS. Touché, is the word I think you're looking for.

        Actually, that's interesting I mention that, really. Deer have another use for their antlers apart from fisticuffs, getting caught in trees and, I don't know, knitting I suppose. It's a show-off thing. It's a case of having the biggest antlers, the most off-shooty things (which I've decided, based on nothing whatsoever, are now called "antlets") and the tallest. It's a guy thing, apparently, and if you have very big antlers, well, you are truly the Buck of the forest. If you only have tiny antlers, then you will get a sympathetic "aww" from the lady deer, and they will forever be referred to patronisingly as "cute". Now, I'm not going to analogise this to any similar biological games of one-upmanship that human guys play, but I will say this for the deer; antlers fall off every year and re-grow. There's at least hope for them for a bigger set next winter.

        But there is one area that we're no different to most mammals in wanting to show off to others, where we can't help but revert back to that primitive natural way of being the head honcho in your corner of the woods, and that is with a car! That's right! Think about it: in the 1980's, if someone wanted to show off with a Ferrari, then the choice of the day was the jaw-droppingly pretty (even for today's standards) Ferrari 328. Despite having an engine that's literally double the size of most hatchbacks today, it "only" produced 270 horsepower. Today, a modern Ferrari needs more than that to get the thing off the driveway, with the new Ferrari 458 squeezing 562hp. Even a mere Ford Focus today gives 220hp! This is an amazing feat of engineering, granted, but let's be honest: unless your address is "1 Silverstone, Northamptonshire" then it's unlikely you're going to need power that was almost Ferrari territory only 25 years ago. Even that Manager-mobile that is a Mercedes E-class can go up to 518hp! Are you really going to use all that on the way to the next trustee's meeting? Nope, however it's a way of saying to the guy at the supermarket car-park "oh, you've got the model with 512hp. Mine has 518! That's 0.1 seconds faster going from 0-60. The queue starts here ladies, where the winner is standing".

        So actually, we haven't really "beaten" nature using polyester or ear-plugs. That game of one-upmanship that animals play for survival hasn't disappeared. Instead it seems to turn up again in the strangest of places. However we don't need to do it for survival, and that makes the horsepower arms-race somewhat unnecessary, and actually quite daft if you think about it.

        However if I win the Lottery, I know that I'll go out and buy a car, and my deciding factor will be less of "how many baby otters will explode if I drive this" or "how many Ikea flat-packs will fit in here" and more of "Will it drive so fast, that I will eventually start going back in time?".

        Because some things never change.

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