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…… 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!


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!



      1. Naomi I suspect will keep the paralyzed (as she kicked his ladder away and covered him in boiling tea tree oil) Lance with the castrated other boyfriend (who’s name I have forgotten – age thing) from an earlier post and thus have two slaves (accepting that Lance couldn’t really do too much ‘slaving’) I think.

    1. You know I never know what to say about Naomi – you see I don’t really like her at all. That makes it a challenge writing though because I have to think up ways for her to blame men for everything going wrong in nature; climate etc. As to the ants I think she would see that as a small price to pay given her objective of ruining poor Lance’s life! Sometimes I wonder about my sanity writing this one!

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