Random Bollocks

The fishwife showed his fuckwittedness today; well not directly, but through his stupidity.

The wife was stopped again by him; I disappeared as quickly as possible as soon as I heard his dulcet tones. He wondered if the wife had heard anything about an emergency black bin collection - I stood in the kitchen wondering if he was obsessed with bins and why he was so eager for the black bin to be collected...

Come to think of it, I haven't seen his wife for days, so perhaps he's killed her, chopped her into pieces and put her in the black bin and is hoping that the collectors are so stupid they won't notice body parts and 6 litres of blood being thrown in the back of a crusher. She'd just about fit in a black bin now; a couple of years ago you would have needed two...

Fishwife's father-in-law has access to cut down trees and every six weeks or so he delivers a trailer full of logs for Fishwife's wood burner. He has more wood than fucking Sherwood Forest and I've mentioned a few times that we would be happy to buy some of the wood off of his father-in-law or even him. He's always either avoided the question or said, "No, we'll sort you some out," and never has. We had a neighbour like him in Wellingborough who we called Ubiquitous Dave, because he was always there, knew everybody and could get you anything you wanted until you actually asked him for it and then he'd disappear until he figured you'd forgotten about asking him. Anyhow, a few months ago he says, "I've got a brown wheelie bin full of small logs; I'm going to put it out for the bin man unless you want it." I bit his hand off, but we never saw the wheelie bin until Monday when he stuck it outside the back of our gate and then hung over the fence and explained that we might not want all of it.

Now, the wood has been in this bin for two years and it has been gathering dust and climbing weeds at the bottom of his garden, but suddenly it's imperative that we empty the bin ASAP because. So today we started to do it. The first thing we were amazed at was the quality of the wood - it was as good as all the other stuff, nice and dry and we couldn't quite work out why he was going to dump it. But then again, we couldn't understand his obsession with the new bin collections. We got about two thirds of the way down the bin when I discovered something altogether really unpleasant... But first a story I told waaaay back when this blog didn't have a 2 suffix.

I remember him about 5 years ago putting disposable nappies into the brown composting bin. You might be aware that disposable nappies take about 200 years to decompose and have a half life not dissimilar to plutonium. I pulled him up on it and he was all apologetic, claiming it was a complete accident and he wasn't thinking. He promptly took the nappies out of the bin and back into his house. The following day when the bins were out and he had gone to work, I lifted the lid and saw that he'd put the nappies back in the bin and covered then up - badly - with some grass clippings. I took them out and put them in his black bin. It took me 12 seconds.

Fast forward back to today and his brown bin had at least half a dozen plastic bags full of dog shit - he owns a dog and I'm afraid I sort of lost it. The wife shushed me because he was at home and I said, "I don't give a fuck. I call him a fuckwit," thumbing in the direction of the Fuckwit, "But this guy is a prize wanker. He has two kids; what are they going to learn if their respected fishwife of a father puts non-compostable shit in brown bins. The man is a fucking imbecile." Then I found two empty Coke cans and a glass bottle as well, right at the bottom of the bin - which also had about 8 inches of soil in it.

I was not happy and my mood didn't get any better when one of the dogs ate half of my freshly made coconut cake and then proceeded to roll in some very unhealthy looking shit while out for a walk. She doesn't do things by half, our Marley.

Marley has been well out of my good books during the last week. I've been like a bear with a excruciatingly sore head - the wife was contemplating going into work rather than spending five days with Mr Angry. Fortunately, I've been more than useful around the house and without much prompting.

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We're already picking strawberries and raspberries and it's barely June. To be fair, the strawberries are small and tasteless, but that's probably to do with the lack of rain we've had. What I am disappointed in is my French beans, which have been piss poor and I only have 2 out of 30 up. Two feet away from them are a dozen runner bean plants going apeshit. I don't understand beans.

My spinach has been awesome! Had over 3lbs in the last week and the seeds were 10 years old! My beetroots are doing well; my spuds look healthier than ever before and my peppers are doing better than I expected (one of them got Marley-ised, but I managed to save its life, despite almost being snapped in half).

Me and my vegetable adventures, eh? Rock and fucking roll!

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I need a job...

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I also still need a new fucking keyboard. Yes, I know I've not gone on about my keyboard for some time lulling you all into a false sense of believing that I'm used to it now, but I'm not. It's a nightmare.