Sunshine doesn't really suit Samuel and Sybil. They're so used to the greyness of Blaenau Ffestini(g)og that the merest glimpse of the sun makes them turn into lobsters. Foul-mouthed lobsters. But then, lobsters can't talk...so such a comparison may not be drawn.
But I digress. With forecasters across Wales (like the dapper Derek Brockway) predicting a hot, sunny week, they had to take evasive action...
...so they went to Ireland. Ireland has a lot of rain, right? Wrong. This particular week saw temperatures swinging from the rafters. With feather boas and HUGE earrings; possibly swigging from bottles of Pimms. Yes.
But still, they seemed to have a good time. They weren't nabbed by the Garda and they managed to avoid any Guinness-fuelled fisticuffs; so by all accounts a good time was had.
However, they did end up in a car wash. Naturally, this confused the hell out of them...
WARNING: Contains epically crude language. Not suitable for kiddysprogs. Do not eat.