Watching from his man cave in the sun soaked Land of the Hurricanes, Cone Man was disturbed by legends of death and destruction wreaked upon the Stars and Stripes Tribe by the Mother of All Wintry Polar Blast Monsters, the terrible Polar Vortex Monster! Cone Man coldly cone-sidered that although Antipodean winters were short, they could be sharp, and he set about gathering more cones. "Ye would na listen" sniggered the self-satisfied ghost of Cone Man's long dead lowland Presbyterian Scottish ancestor. "One more bit of spectral spite out of you and I'll send for an exorcist" snarled Cone Man, chagrined at being corrected by an ethereal busy body ...
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