last week there was supposed to be a RENT INSPECTION!!
but my house was a MESS so i begged the estate agents for another week!! and i was very silly and made them laugh so they LET ME YEAH!! the terribly woolly woolly bushes at the front of my house were THREATENING TO KNOCK MY CIGARETTE OUT OF MY HAND every time i lit one – usually just before i started working out (it is symbolic, like everything else! and SILLY, like everything else!)
i realised that I WOULD HAVE TO
yes i was dismayed too.
So i walked inside and took 6 foot sword from the wall (long story why i HAVE something like that, but hey i am scottish and er so are those kinds of swords and i don’t CARE WHAT YOU SAY!!@@!!!)
then PRUNED THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUTTA THAT BUSH.
the inspection was a success.
both myself and the bush seem to have survived.
I have a two-handed sword. It’s called a claymore in the parlance of the scots, and it is they from whom, perhaps, I inherited my enthusiasm for its use.
Here I am shown GARDENING.
I do not care to garden over-much.
Botany-schmotany I tend to think.
That damned tree was out to GET ME!
So… “have at you!”
I challenged and the fight was on! I hacked limb from limb and limb from leafy thingies and branch from trunk and
suddenly received a terrible blow in the form of a STICK IN THE EYE!
But did I yield?
My honour, along with my pants, had been stained with viscous and vicious green sap!
So I kept going till there was little in the way of tree left and got into trouble with the real estate agent.
And i put it up here because I am vain and I think swords are cool.
(I didn’t take it. That was… hurm a redhead of some artistic merit who shall remain nameless)