Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Pigeons. What is the point of them? No, really, what is the actual fucking point of fucking bastard fucking pigeons? I’ve always been troubled by the feathered fucktards whenever I’ve had young brassicas planted and had to resort to all manner of defence systems, but a couple of years ago settled on sticks placed around the plants at random angles, after reading that pigeons don’t like things above their heads as they think it might be a predator. I was highly sceptical at first but fuck me backwards it actually seemed to work. Or at least it did, because this year the little shitbags have obviously got over their fear and are eating my caulis with a vengeance. Next year when I have more time I am purchasing an air rifle with a view to killing as many of the fuckers as I possibly can, purely for fun, and fuck the animal lovers a few doors up, they can kiss my pimply hairy arse. Whether my caulis can recover in time from this is debatable. The pigeon attack, not my hairy arse.
Potato scab. What is the actual fucking point of potato scab? I’ve sucked fucking reservoirs dry this summer in an attempt to keep scab off my spuds but during a furtle deep into one of my potato bags last night the first fucking potato that I fucking came across had more fucking scabs on it than Jim Carrey’s poxy cock. It just goes to prove that the cockwomble from Derby who told me about giving spuds plenty of water at tuber initiation (is that even a genuine fucking term?) doesn’t know what the fuck he’s on about.
I’m going to have to get my blood pressure tested before the footy season starts! My first batch of runner beans was planted out 3 weeks ago to cover my local show and hopefully Welsh Branch a week after but all my sowings since then have struggled to germinate for some weird reason, despite being the same seed and being treated the same way, sown quite deep in 3” square pots. I can only assume the tender new shoots got ‘cooked’ in the recent heatwave before they were able to emerge. Having used up all my stock I was forced to appeal to that Liverscum supporting, filthy photo texting fellow grower Mark Perry to see if he had any spare seed. He has very kindly sent me some seed which I hope will cover my later shows if I get them in quickly. He employs a bean lettering system similar to the Plumbs but I don’t know why as they all look the fucking same to me.
Meanwhile, scientists and keyboard warriors the World over are shitting themselves about a little bit of ice that’s come away from Antarctica (it’s roughly the size of Cyprus apparently), prophesying the end of the World and blaming Donald Trump for it. Now don’t get me wrong, Trump’s a total cunt, but when you’re hurtling through space at 67,000 miles an hour on a huge oscillating rock on a trajectory that is not fixed from one year to the next shit like this is gonna happen and there aint fuck all mankind can do about it. So quit whining and help me kill some pigeons you underarm dreadlocked, new-age hippy tosspots.