IT'S Groundhog Day and as tradition dictates among our North American cousins, a giant rodent is about to predict the weather for the coming weeks.

Punxsutawney Phil has made his forecasts on February 2 for generations. Later today, the famed Pennsylvania resident will take centre stage at Gobbler's Knob, a peculiarly named park which sounds less like it hosts a prestigious ceremony than it does a popular dogging haunt.

According to legend, if Phil emerges from his burrow and sees a shadow, winter will last six more weeks. If not, then expect an early spring.

Dating back to the 19th century, the ritual is based on a Pennsylvania Dutch superstition. Some credit the link between this particular date and weather predictions to an old Scottish couplet: "If Candlemas Day is bright and clear, there'll be two winters in the year."

Thousands gather to watch as the spectacle is broadcast across North America (and worldwide via a live weblink). Back-to-back screenings of Groundhog Day starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell have become de rigueur (Sky Cinema Comedy will be repeating the 1990s classic all day from 6am).

Fantastical factoid: while groundhogs typically only live for around six years, thanks to a magical "elixir of life", Punxsutawney Phil has reputedly reached the ripe old age of 134. Sadly, his "wife" Phyllis is not afforded the same immortality – only Phil gets to sip from that cup.

As the big build-up began last week, animal welfare charity Peta called for Phil to be retired to a "reputable sanctuary" and replaced by a "cutting-edge animatronic groundhog that could actually predict the weather using artificial intelligence instead".

Which sounds like an idea that Elon Musk might rustle up in his laboratory of mind-boggling things. But if you build one AI groundhog, then you would have to build a robot army. Punxsutawney Phil is merely the most famous of several groundhogs who make weather predictions each February 2.

Among his peers are the brilliantly named Sir Walter Wally in Raleigh, North Carolina; Buckeye Chuck in Marion, Ohio; French Creek Freddie in West Virginia; and Canada's Wiarton Willie in Ontario.

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Groundhog Day has taken on a meaning far beyond that of its marmot meteorologists, one synonymous with living the same experiences over and over again – as happened to Murray's character in the movie – until we get things right or learn from the errors of our ways.

Which does feel like an apt metaphor for modern life. Deja vu or Dante's Purgatorio? Perhaps a little of both.

Coining it in

SPEAKING of Groundhog Day, finally – after being shelved in March and October last year – the Brexit 50p has been released. Mind you, given all the hoo-ha, the Royal Mint is probably wondering why they bothered at all.

First there was comma-gate, led by author and punctuation pedant Philip Pullman, who criticised the absence of an Oxford comma in the slogan "Peace, prosperity and friendship with all nations" that will be inscribed on the millions of coins entering circulation over the coming months. Others took exception to a commemorative coin being issued to mark something that doesn't feel celebratory.

Even so, one has to balk at the Cambridge lawyer who suggested that people use a permanent marker to draw swastikas and deface the 50p pieces. Yikes. Too far.

The gauche font puts me in mind of the babyish scrawl I would use when dreamily doodling the names of boys I fancied on my school jotter. That said, I so rarely carry actual cash these days – hello, contactless payment – that the likelihood of seeing an actual 50p in the wild is slim.

Hence, meh.

Sourpuss

GRUMPY Cat is dead. Long live Grumpy Cat? Meow Meow, a feline from Taiwan, is being hailed as a successor to Tardar Sauce, the famous moggy who died last summer.

It's a troubling development. Do we really need Grumpy Cat 2? Let me recap: the late Tardar Sauce, aka Grumpy Cat, became a phenomenon thanks to her curmudgeonly facial expression, spawning countless internet memes and making her owners a small fortune.

Less hilarious is that her unusual expression was caused by an underbite and feline dwarfism. After Tardar Sauce died (following complications from a urinary tract infection), her manager – yes, manager – Ben Lashes spoke about how the cat "loved her many fans in the UK".

He said: "She was lucky enough to travel there for the unveiling of her Madame Tussauds wax figure, a signing at HMV Oxford, a buyers' showcase for Primark, and a private visit to Abbey Road studios."

Hmm. I reckon that even those well-known worshippers of cats, the ancient Egyptians, would find that a bit of a stretch.

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Most cats I know are less bothered about the trappings of fame than they are about sitting inside random cardboard boxes, clawing at curtains and obsessively licking their own backsides.