Chill it by around forty degrees C.

Remove all those wierd little bright green frogs that have suckers for hands so’s they can cling to the trees  (and how cool must that be?).

Add a liberal smattering of retail parks, industrial units and factory outlets.

Add a westerly, bastardly, totally Dick-Dastardly wind that chills the bits where the sun don’t shine (not even in Hampshire).

Garnish with an overblown sense of local pride.

Et voila…….

Yorkshire.