bees 2

As a committed eco warrior I do get rather miffed with our menfolk for ruining Planet Earth and I will always do whatever it takes to thwart them and protect this orb we live on from becoming the barren husk of a rock it surely will become should the males of our species carry on ruining everything.

Lately I have turned my attention to the contentious matter of how our farmers (all men don’t you know) through use of pesticides are killing off the bee populations and with that threatening to wipe out the human race.  I mean when I was but a small child there were bees all about the place yet now so few of them left…….so very few…….even just thinking about their plight brings tears to my eyes. So sad – Oh dear I’ve come over all girlie again, silly me.

Whatever, just the other day I read this oh so inspiring quote by Albert Einstein (yes I know girls Albert was a man yet clearly one in touch with his feminine side). Anyway Albert once said: “If the bee disappears from the surface of the earth, man would have no more than four years to live. No more bees, no more pollination … no more men!” Note he said ‘men.’

It was after a few glasses of ethically and organically produced pear cider prompting a jolly good think that I came up with my master plan to save the bees and punish the men who have been killing them – those wretched farmers!

Whilst I have about my person at all times an ample stock of pepper spray as a protection against the roving eyes and hands of men I determined that in order to enact my cunning plan I really needed a Taser gun. You see these little beasts are an electroshock weapon using electrical current to disrupt voluntary control of muscles causing “neuromuscular incapacitation”. Any poor sod struck by one experiences stimulation of his sensory nerves and motor nerves, resulting in strong involuntary muscle contractions. In short such men are rendered quivering useless wrecks – oh I go all of a tingle just thinking about it. To this end I got one off eBay.

My plan you ask?  It is this, namely that armed with my handy Taser gun I shall incapacitate as many farmers as possible, bind them in twine whilst defenceless, strip them of all clothing, tie them to a tree or lamppost or such like and attach a sign about their personage saying, ‘BEE MURDERER,’ phone the media and have them duly shamed, ridiculed and embarrassed far and wide.   That’ll teach them a lesson they deserve don’t you think? When you men mess with bees, you mess with Naomi Wholemeal!  Oh I am so very clever at times I surprise myself.

Obviously all great schemes need a careful trial run prior to implementation to make sure everything goes smoothly.

Now I have a plot at our local allotment where I grow my cucumbers, marrows, courgettes and an array of soft fruits. The plot next to mine is that of a sweet old man called Sydney and Sydney, as much as I have taken to him – what with him always giving me cups of tea, sticky buns and kind words – uses pesticides on his crops. I decided that an allotment holder is almost a farmer and that meant good old Sydney frankly deserved to be my guinea pig!

“Hello Naomi luv would you care to share with me some tea, scones, clotted cream and homemade strawberry jam my wife has prepared – there’s easily enough for two here?”

“Not today Sydney………well you could leave some on the side……..yes do that……….anyway Sydney I’m sorry to have to do this but I’ve decided that as you are a bee killer you need to be punished……….so you can cop a few thousand volts from my Taser gun for starters.”


“Golly that cream tea looks tasty must remember to take some home after I’ve dealt with Sydney.”

So there you have it. I tied the old boy to the bus stop outside the allotments and left him there stark bollock naked with the BEE KILLER sign around his neck and telephoned the local paper who sent a news team out quicker than you could say ‘Jack Robinson’ – the whole thing went viral on the net and everything. A major coup for a clever girl like me!  There won’t be a farmer safe on the planet now I reckon.

It was with this thought in mind that I penned my latest poem.



Old Sydney is a kind old man

He even communes with trees

Yet by using all those pesticides

He is killing all the bees


So that is why I tasered him

And trussed him up somewhat

Luckily it was a hot summer’s day

For clothes he did have not


Tied up to a bus stop

He wore just a ‘bee killer’ sign

Crafted by yours truly

The kudos is all mine


Next time I did see Sydney

He said, ‘fuck off you caused me pain’

So I got out my Taser gun

And tasered him again


That’ll learn him!

After that I had the overwhelming desire to talk to the bees and tell them what I’d done and as they seemed so very chuffed to see me I let them crawl all over my torso so they could get right up close and hear what I had to tell them – I must say the little bastards stung me something rotten though – never mind for with justice comes a little pain and anyway the nice man who looked after the hive was not backward in coming forward when it came to massaging the Aloe Vera ointment over my breasts – uncommonly keen for one usually so reticent. Odd that!

Anyhow must be off – I’ve a lentil bake to make.



    1. As with my tree hugging poet, Naomi will have to die – I may even have an American do the deed. As yet this is only her second outing – I may give her a couple more as I enjoy getting into character writing her!

  1. I think our Naomi may be unwittingly doing old Sydney a favor. If I saw a man with w sign that said Bee Killer on him, I’d think, ‘That’s the man for me!’ After all, killing pests and insects are top among the most valued qualifications for suitable mates.

    1. You don’t like bees Marissa? They are one of my favourite things! As for a suitable mate my old adage has always been ‘What a body; what a bank balance’ although I never did find the one with both – too late now of course!

      1. Well then, I must say, you are the bees knees. Great slogan as well, although definitely a challenge finding both. I’ll settle for superior bug killing skills…I’m easy!

      2. The wife is easy as well – as in easily pissed off that is. The rich French mistress keen on parting with her fortune always eluded me – such is life. I feel a poem coming on!

      1. I was wondering if they might cross ways. Now that Jessica is actually part of the tree, she might take on another life form. How’s our man, Carruthers, doing today?

      2. I shall post Carruthers tomorrow. Today is LOMM posting day for me and I have a topical (in the UK and possibly far and wide) Jonny Catapault. I was annoyed I killed Jessica – this is where your skills are required I think. How do I bring her back to life and still keep it funny?

      3. I LOVED that Carruthers today! And Jonny C. was awesome, too!

        Okay, about Jessica….Well, she killed herself by superglueing herself to a tree and becoming as one with it… But then the only witness was Bobby Bob Bob, and he’s not the brightest bulb in the bunch, so it shouldn’t be hard to get her back. I think perhaps a good rain might come and she would find that the glue doesn’t resist water, and she will need a refund. Or perhaps BBB might go back out to the woods and bring flowers because he thinks she’s gone, but then she falls out of the tree on top of him and is angry that he picked live flowers. Or perhaps one of your Victorian poltergeists haunts the woods where she is, and it decides she doesn’t belong there, and sends her back to this life. Or even start with her back in her house getting ready to go out again and complaining that the superglue thing didn’t work. I hope these help. 🙂

      4. Thanks for that young Rachel – she did buy the superglue at Poundland (a shop selling every item at just one pound so the quality is invariably useless) so it is conceivable it didn’t work in wet weather. Your idea works! Also a thought just struck me. As Jessica is a bore maybe the tree she was at one with got bored with her and kicked her out! Yes, you’ve sparked some ideas for bringing the old boot back to life. We are off ‘Up North’ for a wedding for a few days next week so I shall be off the radar and will catch up with your posts Thursday/Friday next week – hate weddings as it happens!

      5. Ah, okay, I understand the Poundland reference now. It’s like our “everything’s a dollar” stores… that sell cheap stuff made in China.
        Yes, weddings can indeed be long and boring, but being as I photograph them for a living, that makes them a little more exciting for me because I get to at least walk around a bit during them and I also get to boss people around and drink on the job. 😉 The reception afterwards can be really fun or really boring depending on the deejay. But when I’m a guest and not the photographer, I usually want to cut out early. Frankly as a photographer, there are also times I cut out early when they get bad. If people get too drunk, they’re not much fun, and when there’s no drinking, they’re not much fun. But hopefully your trip itself will be fun. Is “Up North” anyplace good? Is there anything good to see there? I’ll miss you while you’re away! I sure hope your leg feels better before you go! (Maybe that’s why it hurts… so you don’t have to go!) 🙂

      6. The wedding is my least favourite city of Leeds – so bad. Leg pain gone as quick as it came (which oddly worries me more than if it had stayed!). Just done my 12k all ok it seems. The chap getting married is my cousin – a little older than me – who’s wife died about 3 years ago. He was a broken man at the time so it’s good he has found someone – it’ll be a small affair in a posh hotel I think – we’ll get an early night and set back home on Wednesday morning we think. We are considering a short rent in France in the next couple of weeks thus giving us something to look forward to while we wait for this house sale thing (still looks to be on) plods on – maybe even ask George if he wants a free break – he can be our driver and France generally inspires him musically – he’d live there if he could I believe; then again so would I!

  2. Like all your characters, this one is as authentic as she is silly. Don’t know how you keep managing to find balance between those two extremes, but it’s a recipe that works really well! This one was a lot of fun to read (P.S., it’s me, Lenny from satnat, but for some reason WordPress doesn’t allow me to log in with my own account…but I guess you kind of already figured as much;))

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s