You probably thought things got pretty bad here last week. The shoveling was daily, the roads were scary, and I developed a lot of sympathy for residents of snow globes.

My e-penpal in England reported massive paralytic panic because, despite what you see in endless film and TV remakes of "A Christmas Carol," it does not tend to snow there. In fact, this past week, when the snow did pile up deep and crisp and even, the English abandoned their cars and lorries and velocipedes or whatever on the roads and left them to be scavenged by sheep.

She sent me a photo of an alleged snowman that looked more like a miniature version of that new tower in Dubai. Ten out of 10 for effort, but children there are simply not taught proper snow construction techniques.

Look what happened to the Eurostar train in the Channel Tunnel. Every couple of days it sucks some snow into an air intake and ends up in Narnia.

I hadn't thought of England as snow-challenged. Kathryn tells me they are unprepared for more than a few millimeters of white stuff, lacking decent tyres, adequate snowploughs or insulated siding made of aluminiuminium.

(My spellcheck just put out a hit on me.)

When you think people who are comically paralyzed by small amounts of snow, you think "Southerners." Every time it snows in Georgia or the Carolinas, we Northerners sit in our log cabins and ice-fishing tents chuckling at the Weather Channel coverage of underdressed pecan-pie-eaters who, for once, have stopped boasting that they're going to the beach while we're chipping ice off our dogs for the third time today.

(Winter driving tip for inexperienced Southern drivers: In a skid, stay off the brake. Take your foot off the gas, shift down and hope you fall into a pothole before you hit something. That's what we do.)

In Florida, they've actually seen precipitation in the form of snow. Also in the form of iguanas.

Iguanas are not native to Florida, but like many human species, they have been going there to retire. Extreme cold shocks them into hibernation, which would be less of a problem if they didn't live in trees.

Many species are having a rough time, including fish and sea turtles, but only iguanas are going stiff and crashing down out of the trees like stunned squirrels. The insurance claims must read like a Monty Python sketch:

"Cause of damage to vehicle: Frozen iguana."

The Christian Science Monitor (not to be confused with the Christian Science Gecko) reported that Florida Fish and Wildlife types are secretly kind of relieved to see the iguanas meet with misfortune, because they are an invasive species that doesn't belong in Florida at all. Like New Yorkers.

And iguanas aren't the only interlopers who've caught a chill: Burmese pythons have no business in the Everglades, but try telling them that. Hey, who doesn't love airboats?

The nonnative pythons have been wreaking havoc on the delicate swamp ecosystem, so state authorities have seized this frigid opportunity to encourage hunters to peg them as they try to thaw out on roads or your grandma's patio.

Meanwhile, manatees and rays have been warming themselves in the outflows from nuclear power plants near Miami and Tampa.

Crowds of locals turn out to watch them, but I am less afraid of being beaned by an iguanacicle or tripping over a groggy snake than I am of a glowing mutant manatee. Isn't this how Godzilla got started?

In a few months, we'll be evacuating major cities as 50-foot nuclear manatees stumble through the streets, pelting cars with frozen fish and tracking seawater everywhere.

Salt water. Hmmm.

At least that should get rid of the last of the snow.

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