The Idiot Gardener

WARNING: This site contains information on gardening, brewing, curing meat,

building shit and hunting, all done in a piss-poor manner. It is not suitable for the

feeble-minded, the weak and lame, those of a nervous disposition, vegans and

vegetarians (and those other ones that only eat fish and the occasional bacon

sandwich - I think they're called 'hypocrites'), those who practice any

manner of folk singing or dancing, people named Colin or fans of Barry Gibb.

Just like starting over

So, what’s been happening on the Five Acres of Idiocy? Let me tell you. I’ll keep it short and sweet. It will be, literally, succinct. You won’t get dragged in to a detailed and analytic monologue about the day to day rituals involved in idiot smallholding and various horticultural practices. Fear not that you’ll miss Coronation Enders or some other long running televisual feast of inanity. No, we shall not tarry. The wind will be at our backs and we’ll make swift progress. Full steam ahead. After all, you’re busy people and time is money and money is the root of all evil and evil ain’t nothing but live spelled backwards. So let’s live a little. Little and Large; they were a pair of twats, weren’t they?

Where were we?

Oh yes, brevity is the important issue here. Indeed, my middle name shall be haste. I used to go to school with someone whose middle name really was Haste. Terry Haste McGinley. He had a limp and a scar shaped like a knob on his left cheek. He stuttered, and when he did so he became so frustrated that he wet himself. Anything bright or shiny made him twitch, and if you showed him a ball of cotton wool he literally shat where he stood. Funnily enough, having a middle name like Haste wasn’t the worst of his problems.

However, I digress.

I won’t hold you up, I appreciate that you want to be on your way. Some people can be so inconsiderate when it comes to the value of peoples time. After all, it’s your life ebbing away. Each second is a second you’ll never have again. You one second closer to death, and nothing … NOTHING … will get you that time back. That why I, me, the Idiot, certainly won’t waste any more of your time. You can call me fat, you can call me daft, you can even call me Terry, but one thing you can’t call me is a waster of time.

What? Oh yes, so what has been happening at the Five Acres of Idiocy? Well, the unpacking is done, and some general repairs have been made, and we’ve bought a new bed, and all the vehicles have been fixed, and we’ve found the right day to put the bins out, and we’ve even talked to Farmer Giles and his mates. But what of all things ‘smallholderish’? What has been planted? What charcuterie is under way? Any brews happening? How goes the woodland management?

I’ll tell you what has been happening at the Five Acres of Idiocy. I’ll tell you in as simple way as I can. Quckly. Simply. Without procrastination. What has been happening at the Five Acres of Idiocy?

Nothing.

Fuck all.

Oh wait … I had some horse shit delivered…

I knew I was starting again, but I didn’t realise just how again I would be starting.

 

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2 thoughts on “Just like starting over

    • The IdiotThe Idiot Post author

      Thanks, I have to go for it; can’t really pull out now! I still have the odd ‘WTF’ moment!

      Reply

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