Meteorological vandals held riots last night.

Through lacerated skies they rode,

Wielding zapping zigzags.

Rabid, they rained and roared and screeched and hailstoned and stomped and flooded and shredded and crushed.

These Hell’s Angels behaving atrociously

Slid down mountains in mud,

Played shot put with boulders,

Got the Rhone so drunk it fell overboard,

Inspiring hundreds of copycat acts.

This place is a mess.

Whatever next…