IN a doctor's surgery somewhere in the heart of downtown Metropolis sits Weatherman, the super-hero for the 21st century. He is not a happy little meteorologist.

Doctor: So, what seems to be the trouble? Are you suffering a bit in this heatwave you've inflicted on us?

Weatherman: No doctor, it's nothing like that. After all, I predicted it, so I really should be ready for it.

Doctor: Well, yes, I suppose you're right. But you wouldn't believe how many patients I've had in today with sunburn or heatstroke.

The chemist is running out of calamine lotion.

It's just too darn hot!

Weatherman: Do you really think so? You see, when you get down to it, that's the problem. No matter what I do, rain or shine, hail or sleet, nobody seems to be happy with the weather.

I'm embarrassed to say it, but I'm starting to think that people don't like me.

Doctor: People don't like you? What nonsense, you're a super-hero!

We all watch you every day in my house, and here in the surgery.

Well, we talk of little else.

We just get a bit impatient sometimes, waiting for you to come up with some decent sunshine. Not like this, though, I must confess.

Actually, do you mind if I put a fan on, and open a window? It's stifling in here.

Weatherman: But that's just it! I knew for a dead cert that this week would be a scorcher and I thought at last my moment has arrived.

They'll be checking the ice cream sales and the tourism bookings, taking pictures of daft dogs being hosed down, and pretty girls sunbathing by fountains, I'm telling everyone that we're hotter than the Med.

But instead of that, everyone's complaining about the price of sun cream, and obsessing about UVB radiation.

Railway lines are buckling in the sun, car radiators are boiling in traffic queues, talk has turned to global warming and the increased threat of flooding.

Instead of people coming up and congratulating me, for saving their summer, I'm getting dirty looks at the bus stop and nobody wants to sit next to me in the staff canteen.

I'm starting to get a complex.

Doctor: You know, you shouldn't take things too personally. People still love to watch you.

We even love it when you get it wrong!

Weatherman: Don't, please! I've only just stopped waking up in a cold sweat at night, worrying about missing a hurricane on the satellite.

This week, I was so sure we would beat that 100F in Cheltenham but now I'm getting no end of earache from people who went down to Ladbrokes on the strength of what I said.

Doctor: As a matter of fact I had a fiver on that myself. I thought it was better odds than the lottery, but you live and learn.

Still, listen, if you really are starting to question your vocation, I can recommend a cure.

Weatherman: Really? You don't know what a weight it would be off my mind.

Doctor: It's simple really. You just use your superhuman powers to dream up new things for us Brits to whinge about.

We would always love you then.

Weatherman: Doc, that's brilliant! I could be Pooperman! The Incredible Sulk!

Thank you so much, I'll get right on to it. Goodbye!

Doctor: Only too pleased. Next!

Updated: 11:22 Friday, August 08, 2003