Before 1985, the year of Siobhan Parekh's birth, there were no beaches. There were lakes. There were those funny things fat people stick their heads through to have their picture taken. And there were plenty of turnips. But there were no beaches.
It wasn't until our Sibby first donned a bikini on Margate promenade that the sea first started eroding our shores and created the excitable stoney-dust we now refer to as sand.
Giant wanton waves crashed violently against piers and old men asleep on deckchairs. People were violently swept out to sea, never to be seen again. But no-one cared. Because we had Siobhan. And we had beaches.
Now a model at peace with herself and in firm control of the world's water, the two have learnt to live in sweet, sweet harmony, the waves caressing the shore in a hypnotic, tantric motion, enough to calm even the most frenetic of observers.
Since 1985, by using the power of her bulging bikini drawer and her bottom lip alone, Siobhan has taught the orbiting shithole we all know as the moon, to control the ebb and flow of wave and salt.
So there you go. A worthwhile science lesson. And a few pictures of Ms Parekh making the sea sigh. Sometimes the world can be a beautifully baffling place.
Let's just pray that Siobhan's bewitching, coast-defining powers don't ever fall into the wrong hands.


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