Thursday, 8 September 2011

Return of the Giant Hogweed

"Well inspector!" said detective Cholmondley Warner "I am suspecting a blunt force
trauma to the head was probably the main reason for the Colonel's demise." Walking
carefully around the body, he went on "yes, yes I see it now...the victim had
obviously snagged his tie in the keys of the typewriter and evidently bashed his brains
in whilst trying to type the word 'help' with his nose!"

I must say that the previous month could certainly be labelled as odd. Autumn is not
here yet but it really does feel like it. The cool, dark evenings are adorable but
unfortunately cool dark evenings bring the menace that arachnids.
Alan, the largest I have seen in quite a while, seems to put in an appearance at
strangely random times which usually results in him being ejected at some
considerable distance down the lane, yet....he returns.
I suspect that they have homing instincts and are building up an immunity to
conkers which always worked as a repellant but seem to failing in that department
for reasons unknown, Hospheria blames global warming but typically that is her
main reason for everything that becomes defective or broken.
Global warming and deadly plants.
I have also rediscovered my passion for giant hogweed. The very obvious eradication
programme for this deadly and enormous threat to the human race had fallen short
of success along the 'haunted road' and now, several years later's back.
I was photographing the monster plants the other evening much to the surprise
of a passing people carrier full of wide eyed, staring people along the aforementioned
haunted byway, I came lumbering out of the dark with my camera hanging from
my neck only to be greeted by the approaching headlights. The driver made a
huge semi circular deviation around me, I imagine to prevent me from stealing
their souls or something. I smiled at the pasty white faces that were still staring
from the back window as the car sped into the night. I raised my camera and FOOSH,
stole there souls anyway in the form of a photograph.

Cholmondley Warner pushed his trilby to the back of his head with the barrel of his
revolver and frowned slightly. "Terrible business this, inspector" he said "to be a
successful writer in this day and age is not an easy thing, one either has it....or
they don't" he bent over the body and squinted "the Colonel obviously didn't
have the head for it"