Well there I was just the other day minding my own business on my way to my friend Dandelions ‘Vegan Emporium of Organic Whole Grain & Pulses’ when lo and behold right in front of me a tree branch – an oak at that – crashed upon the pavement. Had I taken but one step further at the time I would likely have been struck by it and maimed or even worse killed outright.
As I endeavoured to compose myself I then heard a male voice, a common type by the sound of it utter the words, “Sorry about that luv……..me chain saw slipped in me hands causing the branch I was cutting off to fall the wrong way.”
I, of course asked the lout just how come he was chopping off branches of said tree only for him to reply, “Well luv I’m just trimming it down a cock or two so as when we fell the bloody thing it will do less damage to the surroundings……..I’m taking out this entire copse over the next few days so the tarmac new road can be laid…..great fun I can tell you.”
Plainly I was mortified. Here before my very eyes was yet another example of ‘men’ at work destroying nature just so a road – a road we don’t want or need – can be built. What was once a copse would now be exhaust fume central and all because of ‘men’ and their fucking chainsaws!
Back home in my eco-friendly recycled corrugated dwelling place in the woods I got to thinking. I find a little ethically and organically produced pear cider helps in this regard……there’s me owning up to my little secrets again….slapped wrists and all that. Whatever, my cunning plan to prevent ‘men’ – yes it is always ‘men’ – from destroying nature was formulating nicely.
What is said plan I hear you ask? Well my intent is to put a stop to tree felling once and for all – even in the rainforests of the Amazon where such cruelty toward trees is running rampant. In order to achieve this I shall climb up each and every tree these ‘men’ wish to savagely chop down thus putting halt to proceedings. However – and here’s the clever bit – I shall tickle the fancy of these tree surgeon types by cladding myself in a skimpy (well very skimpy as in barely nothing if the truth be told) outfit displaying my womanly charms thus ensuring an instant rise in their testosterone levels (men after all are tiresomely predictable in that regard) and causing them to climb up their ladders believing that they are likely on the promise of a shag. Then as they are nearly at the top I shall smother them – from a handy flask I shall conceal about my person – in boiling tea tree oil as a prerequisite to giving the ladder a fucking good kick thus causing these ‘men’ to crash to the detritus. That’ll learn them good and proper. Rather good don’t you think! There won’t be a tree surgeon on the planet safe from the heel of my foot I can tell you!
One always needs to give a plan a test run though and as luck would have it I discovered just yesterday – and to my horror at the time – that my new boyfriend Lance is a landscape gardener no less. That means he cuts down trees even if in his case it is mostly saplings. Lance you see is a man – I can certainly verify that – and plainly he deserves to be my very first victim.
I have invited him over for a lentil bake this evening yet unbeknownst to Lance he will hear my plaintiff pleas for help from the summit of the old oak nearby to my dwelling place and will see me as a damsel in distress and no doubt try to rescue me and claim his reward on the copulation front. I feel sure he’ll spot the ladder and decide to extricate me – especially so as I’ll have my kit off – and that’s where I’ll do for him! Brilliant isn’t it? So brilliant that I have penned a new poem!
THE DEMISE OF LANCE THE LANDSCAPE GARDENER
Lance you wretched killer
Of nature’s glorious trees
Be it oaks, or elms or redwoods
You make me ill at ease
You, the landscape gardener
An eco-criminal to my mind
Will pay the ultimate price now
For being so unkind
When you see me atop the old oak
You’ll want to be my Knight in Shining Armour
No doubt noting I am naked
You’ll think, ‘I won’t have to charm her’
How very, very wrong you’ll be
For as you reach the summit
I’ll kick away the fucking ladder
And to the floor below you’ll plummet
Should you survive that dreadful fall
You’ll need a wheelchair
Yet you’ll have to live with it
And never again cop a look at my pair
There that’ll teach him a thing or two – must be off now I’ve a lentil bake to cook!