Earth Hour 2009

The Prodicus ménage will marking tonight's global self-flagellation with its own observances between 8.30 and 9.30 pm London time, Saturday 28 March 2009.

For one hour, Prodicus will become a Warmist by doing his damnedest to warm the planet. Our target is to get the earth's surface temperature up by one quattuordecillionth of a degree Fahrenheit. Fahrenheit for the sake of tradition and the target because the word itself pleases me. And there is no such thing as a fucking gazillion. Peasants.

All windows will be opened and the central heating will be turned up to maximum as will the temperature of the constant hot water supply. There is a heated debate this morning about whether or not to turn on the immersion heater as well. I am in favour but Mrs Prodicus thinks that would be a little OTT.

There are three electric ovens in the kitchen and all will be roasting away merrily in advance of the feast with which the household will mark the end of Earth Hour. All four burners on the gas hob will be in use to the same end.

There is a radio in every room without a TV set or computer, and all will be blaring out whatever is on Radio 3. That includes the bathroom and the lavatory.

Two of the three TV sets are capable of playing DVDs. Anyone in the main main living room will be entertained by the Gabrieli Consort's Music for San Rocco. Anyone wishing to see Fred Astaire's masterpiece, Swing Time, should repair to the second bedroom. The third TV will be switched to Fox News but guests are free to change channels to any but those operated by the BBC or Channel 4.

The garden floodlights will be switched on at the commencement of Earth Hour and a trumpet-playing nephew will alert the district with a specially-composed fanfare which he has dedicated to Al Gore under the working title of Fanfare for a Global Con Artist. The lights will remain on throughout Earth Hour as will the light in the front porch. (The trumpet will be confiscated at the end of the fanfare.)

If the weather is clement, all present in the house will be provided with battery-operated torches and asked to go outside for a celebratory mass smoke-in. Cigarettes and cigars will be provided by your host.

At the end of Earth Hour, all audiovisual equipment will be silenced as the company assembles in the dining room for (refrigerated) champagne and civilised conversation, probably about how the world has been taken over by the fucking lunatics and thank God one knows some sane people. We shall then share a fine Watermelon Memorial Repast of which the highlight will be Prodicus's famous watermelon sorbet. The feast will end with port and cigarettes for the gentlemen and malt whisky and cigars for the ladies. Or ad lib. The evening's proceedings will end with a fireworks display (fireworks imported from China) around a bonfire of all those old copies of Radio Times we recently discovered in the attic topped off with an effigy of Michael Meacher, just for laughs.

If you're down this way, do pop in, but kindly bring something we can plug into the mains, preferably with a built-in light of some sort.