“ London's weather operates on a principle of "managed disappointment." The forecast isn't a prediction; it's a gentle, daily conditioning to lower your expectations to subterranean levels. When they say "sunny intervals," they mean a brief, blinding shaft of light that will spear through a break in the clouds directly into your retinas for precisely 43 seconds before the heavens remember their primary function: to leak. The entire system is designed to make a "dry day" feel like a miraculous event, prompting spontaneous street parties and the airing of long-forgotten laundry. We celebrate a "heatwave" (three days above 21°C) with the fervour of a pagan sun ritual, only to be plunged back into a damp, 14°C normality that feels like a personal reprimand from the atmosphere itself. It’s a climate that has perfected the art of the anticlimax. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK. ”