“ Autumn in London is not a riot of colour; it's a slow, soggy decay. The leaves don't crunch underfoot; they form a slippery, brown papier-mâché that clogs drains and coats pavements in a hazardous sludge. The iconic image of kicking through crisp leaves is a lie perpetrated by American films. Our reality is "leaf mould," a damp, decomposing carpet that smells vaguely of regret and composting vegetables. The trees shed their coats with a sigh, revealing skeletal branches that are immediately bejewelled with rain droplets. It's a beautiful, melancholic season, if your idea of beauty is watching nature give up and prepare for a long, damp nap. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK. ”