The great seed robbery!
It is with a heavy heart that I am forced to report the great seed robbery. What is worse, what is upsetting and disheartening, is that I must also report that a previous winner of a TIGNOG is being stripped of his award, stripped of his TIGNOG for bringing the awards into disrepute. It’s a disgrace, a shame and a bloody scandal; that’s what it is. It’s a dark stain on the soul of gardening, a rot deep in the heart of horticulture, it’s a crime against gardening, a bloody terrible crime against us all, and the culprit has to be made to pay. Rather than repeat the whole story, I’ll just leave you with the letter sent today to the dirty criminal in question.
Dear Mr Fothergill,
Unaccustomed as I am to writing to a cartoon character, I feel compelled to do so in this instance. Yes, I accept that as the friendly face of mainstream gardening, you do go some way towards ticking the boxes for the great unwashed. I also accept that your seed and seed potato collection are – considering you are a mainstay of the sheds and confused garden centres (I speak of the places where Christmas Decorations and Hedgehog boot scrapers are more important than plants) – pretty diverse. I can’t comment about your flowers, as they’re for girls.
I am surprised that you even bother with flowers, as clearly – from your cartoon face – I can see that you are a man who knows more about onions and cabbage than hollyhocks and daisies. Your moustache is certainly more Burt Reynolds than Gay Bob, and for that I heartily commend you. Also, that’s one hell of a hat; definitely the head-adornment of a vegetable grower!
Now, before you think I am just contacting you to offer praise, I’m not. You see, there is no easy way to say this, but Mr Fothergill, I am on to you.
Don’t play the innocent, we both know what I’m talking about. It’s the seed scandal. You must have known that one day someone was going to spot it, and today, my moustache-wearing, titfer-adorned friend, is that day!
Recently I purchased from you, via a retail outlet, some squash seeds. Delikates, to be precise! Yes, I felt your smile slip when I mentioned that. It’s because you know what’s coming, don’t you Mr Fothergill? Now, I often buy direct from you, and as I had bought these seeds offline, so to speak, I was concerned that maybe some sly shop assistant was perpetrating the scandal, but no. The packet was intact. But you knew that, didn’t you? Yes, you did, because it’s not a ‘who-dun-it’; it’s a ‘you-dun-it’!
What does it say on the back of the Delikates packet? It says: Average seeds, 20. Yes, I do know what average means, but when I’d planted 10, how many do you think were left Mr Fothergill? Not ten; I know that and you know that. No, not nine or even eight; don’t play the innocent with me. It was five Mr Fothergill. Five.
Now, let’s say that the seeds cost £1.49, because that’s exactly what they did cost. Now, let’s say that a million people buy the seeds, expecting 20, and they only get 15. That means that you now have 5 million Delikates seeds, which I bet is exactly what you’ve got stashed in that fetching hat of yours.
Now, if you then sell those 5 million Delikates seeds in packets of 15, you have … ummm, hang on, I’m not great at maths … 333,333 packets of seeds at £1.49, which equates to just short of a whopping half a million pounds. Even in cartoon money, that’s stronging it a bit.
But wait, it gets worse. My Delikates pack states 20 seeds, and I’ve seen others quoting 20 seeds, but now I note that you’re selling them on-line in 10 packs, still at £1.49! That means that when I and the other 999,999 people bought 15 seeds instead of 20, your 5 million free seeds suddenly realise a value of £745,000.
Now, here’s the thing, Mr Fothergill. Do you know who might be interested in this? I’ll tell you who. Deputy Dawg! I can’t think of any other cartoon policemen or sheriffs, so he’ll do.
What have you got to say about that, then?
I look forward to your conmments.