Friday, 12 October 2012

Red Worms are Beneficial

When I opened the parcel that came in the post today, I was shocked to find that it was full of snails. I didn’t order snails, being British I don’t eat snails, unlike those perfidious French. Besides my garden is full of damned snails, they’re eating my dahlias, my potatoes and have already devoured most of my strawberry plants. I put down slug pellets which normally work for snails too, but the bloody things keep coming back. I certainly don’t require any more!

I shall complain to Thompson and Morgan. They’re a reputable garden supplier, who don’t usually get my orders wrong and I definitely didn’t order snails. I ordered worms. To be precise I ordered the little red worms which you find in compost bins, because the only wildlife in my compost bin are rats. Red worms are beneficial to the process of composting, rats are not beneficial to anything. My wife is scared of rats, which is plainly ridiculous, but they don’t belong in the compost bin.

My wife says the rats like the compost bin because I put the wrong things into it. I told her she was talking rubbish. I put all the garden waste through my shredder, mixed with shredded paper from the old books on my wife’s bedside cabinet which I know for a fact she’s never read. I layer this in the bin with all the kitchen waste, cabbage stalks, fish bones, potato peelings, even my wife’s pathetic attempt at chicken curry goes in. Nothing inorganic, it will all rot down and the little red worms will help, they’re a sign of healthy compost.

We ate roast beef for dinner, or I ate roast beef, my wife wasn’t hungry. I do wonder about her, she’s begun to exhibit some peculiar behavior recently. For example since the surplus snails were delivered earlier today, she’s been crooning over them and feeding them with scraps trimmed from the roast beef. Honestly! Snails are vegetarian which is why they have eaten my dahlias. My wife hates dahlias, she likes forget-me-nots which is totally ridiculous, forget-me-nots are weeds. I failed to remember our stupid anniversary last week and so I offered to order her some flowers, but she refused, saying forget-me-nots were out of season.

Well I’ve had my after-dinner rest in front of the football. I need to fetch my laptop and send a sharply worded email to Thompson and Morgan about my worms and those damned snails. Where are they… and why can’t I move my arms…? Or my legs…? Ooh, I feel quite ill.. my wife is looking at me very strangely.

What the hell are you doing you stupid woman? Why are you putting the snails on my hands? They’re crawling up my arms, inside my shirt… ahhhh that hurts that hurts… aaaghhhhh…. Help me!

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