

The Norwegian viper spends these sunny days acting like he's bloody bullet-tooth-tony, a regular hard bastard—claiming the rocky ground, and when you get a tad close he dares ya: "c'mon mate, take another step, see how that plays out"
—then winter rolls in and suddenly it’s, “Nah mate, I’m not built for this.” Turns out when it drops below freezing, the mighty viper becomes a needy little cuddle addict.
Hundreds of the fuckers, all cramming into the same hole in the ground like it’s the last pub open before lockdown. “Don’t mind me, Gary, just slithering over your face—purely for survival.”