WHAT madness abounds? Our world has become the inside of a snow globe, you can’t see further than the frost on the end of your nose and what do we do?

What we don’t do is stay at home, put the heating up full and watch Cash In the Attic or that nice holiday programme in which the posh, gorgeous presenter finds lovely Tuscan farmhouses for elderly couples from Kent.

What we do is make it to work, to B&Q or to visit friends – and we drive.

And we drive in stupid cars that aren’t made for our ever-worsening weather. We drive in stupid cars like Mercedes or BMWs that have rear wheel drive that takes to the snow and ice like a new-born baby camel.

The fact is, at the risk of mixing the animal metaphors, we’re a nation of delusion donkeys who don’t realise we are not equipped for the elements. We think we’re Anna and Elsa from Frozen, venturing out into the blizzard.

We think we’re Bear Grylls or Gordon Buchanan who can tackle frozen wastelands with aplomb. But what we don’t have is a sleigh and a reindeer to pull us along. We have daft cars that don’t even have winter tyres fitted.

And we don’t carry the essentials for what Scotland now requires of us: a shovel, a blanket, a flask of your mother’s soup and a Tamla Motown CD, just in case our mood becomes too despairing.

This morning, I helped to push a young Celtic footballer neighbour whose car was stuck at right angles across the road in front of our flats.

This young man isn’t silly; his passes are cleverer than Stephen Fry. And I’m fairly sure he has a degree in one of the clever subjects. But there he was out front in his big, shiny Merc that was sliding around like Todd Carty in Dancing On Ice. With the aid of a shovel and half a dozen wiling neighbours he was glided back into a parking space, facing the right way.

Now, you have to admire someone’s commitment to make it to their work but surely you could do a few sit ups in the comfort of your house?

Yet we don’t do the sensible thing. We don’t for a minute take notice of the RAC reports which reveal we are on a Red warning. And as we should know, what Red really means is “Taking your car out today suggests a single figure IQ. Taking your car out today means it will be in the body repair shop for two weeks and your insurance premiums will rocket.” What Red warnings also mean is there is a risk to life.

It’s not only driving that represents a problem. It’s also walking in snow. Some like to think they love it. They want to go out pretending they’re Scott of the Antarctic, when the reality is they’re headed to the Spar for a packet of digestives wearing a Liam Gallagher parka with a hood covering their faces while spending their pavement time bumping into those who manage to keep their eyes open.

When I leave here today I hope to take a picture of some clown using their phone in this snow-blinding madness.

Of course, many of you, like myself, are thinking; “Why can’t we cope with a couple of feet of snow?”

I used to live in Canada and, as far as I can remember, nothing stopped the Mountie-inspired dogged Canadians from getting to their work.

Why don’t we have the infrastructure? And we have great met systems now. We knew that Putin-backed blizzard was on the way so why didn’t we prepare for it? If we can develop space ships headed for Mars, artifical intelligence that scares us witless and even a movie career for Adam Sandler why can’t we put enough snowploughs on the road?

Why are our trains filling up with snow on the inside? You can bet a giant Toblerone on the fact Swiss trains, at this moment, are snow-free.

Is it money? If so, why can’t we tax Amazon and Starbucks and make them pay a snow levy? If they’re filling our homes and bellies, they should help empty our roads of this white horror.

Now, there are those who are thinking we should prepare to go out in the snow. But the truth is we don’t have the intelligence nor the technical ability to do that. I couldn’t for the life of me fit snow tyres, nor even snow socks (which you can buy for cars, and they look comfy). On a bad back day I can hardly pull on my own socks.

We need to learn that snow can be dangerous but we also need to learn it can be fun. Children see snow and they pull on mittens, grab a carrot from the fridge and go out into the garden to create their new best buddy, Frosty.

Children would never dream of travelling in this white hell. Instead, they embrace it without the silliness of driving in it. They have fun with it and they’re right, if snow were so terrifying Steven Spielberg would have forgotten about making a movie about sharks and focused on an igloo.

I’m off home, to work on my laptop (honestly) then to stare out into the snowglobe at the Mercedes in my car park. And while I may not find the sense to realise I should have bought a four-wheel drive, it may dawn upon me not to try to drive it.