Tag Archives: Green

3512. Snakes alive!

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When Saint Patrick rid Ireland of snakes Saint Brigid was furious. She liked snakes. In fact she had a pet snake. “The snakes of Ireland are not venomous,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with them.” But Saint Patrick insisted, and before you could blink an eye all snakes were gone. Banished. Kaput.

To make up for the loss of snakes, but particularly the loss of Slither her pet snake (Slither was not the real name but I have translated it from the Irish), Saint Brigid issued an insurmountable edict: on the 17th of March each year those celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day shall drink green beer and eat corned beef and cabbage.

So stick that in your pipe and smoke it. “Thank goodness it wasn’t haggis or tripe,” muttered Saint Patrick pouring himself a whiskey.

3450. Blue murder

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I don’t care, Officer, how many witnesses say they saw me leave the house of the murder. You just want to find someone, anyone, to hang the murder on. Well, it wasn’t me. In fact I don’t know those people and I’ve never even been to their house ever.

You say they were murdered in the kitchen with the carving knife. I don’t have a clue where the kitchen is, let alone where they keep the carving knife. How would I even know those people’s names? You say I knew the woman in the past, but I’ve never heard of her in my life. Not that I remember anyway.

Then you go and tell me that the carving knife is in the drawer near where they hang the green pet budgie’s cage. I never even knew they had a green budgie. It used to be blue.

3109. Up to the heavens

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Clifford had died aged seventy-seven. He left behind a widow, six children, and seventeen grandchildren. Adrienne, his widow, thought hard about what could be done to help the grandchildren. At the graveside each grandchildren would be given a helium-filled balloon, and they will let them go as grandpa’s coffin was lowered into the grave. Let the balloons fly all the way up to grandpa in the heavens!

Two weeks later Adrienne got a letter in the mail.

Dear Mrs. Fraser,

It has been brought to our attention that helium-filled balloons were released at you husband’s funeral. This is damaging to the environment. It is utterly irresponsible. These rubber balloons take centuries to decompose. They get tangled in trees and deform growth, not to mention animals and birds choking on them.

We’re sorry, but lessons have to be learnt. We intend to pursue this negligence legally. You shall hear from us in due course.

Harry Markle,
Solicitor

2969. No pass mountain pass

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I am driving along in my old car – I call it an “old car” but I got it brand new at the start of the year. I really do have too much money. Once I start talking like that and saying “old car” I know I’m taking my good fortunes for granted. Anyway, I’m driving along in my old car. I like driving. I like to go places I’ve never been before. Go down (or in this case go up) abandoned roads and see where isolation and desolation is returning the world back to its natural habitat. Places might look run down, but really it’s Mother Nature saying “I’ve had enough of your wasteful civilization. I’m returning the Earth to its pristine beauty.”

So here I am driving up this mountain on a stony abandoned road. The view is spectacular. The steep rock cliffs on one side of the road are enormous. The sheer ravines on the other side of the road are terrifying. The road is skinny enough for one car. I don’t know what would happen if I met another vehicle coming the other way! There’s nowhere to turn around. I’d have to back on this skinny treacherous mountain track.

I dare say it will end soon and meet up with a more substantial mountainous highway. But it’s all worth it, don’t you think? I’m an avid follower of the government’s Green policies. The squandering of resources is a scandal. I was brought up with a “waste not, want not” mentality. And here… what’s this?… the end of the road…

The road ends in the middle of the mountains with the face of a sheer cliff. There’s not even the chance of turning around. Especially a vehicle as large as my “old car”. I simply have to do what is necessary. I’m taking my wallet and pushing the car over the side of the mountain track. There! It’s gone crashing down hundreds of feet. It’s spectacular watching the car plummet down! Exhilarating!

Now I’ll have the several hours walk back to where this track started. Not to worry; I love the mountain air and scenery. I’ll have to keep an eye out too for another stopping place. My three old cars piled up at the bottom of the ravine are starting to look a bit crowded.

2508. Off the power grid

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We are very blessed to be rich. We do not want for much. We live in a rather well-admired suburb of a rather well-admired city. We have fourteen acres at the edge of the town surrounding our eleven bedrooms each with an en suite. It means friends can come and stay whenever they wish.

Being rich comes with its responsibilities. We are in a position to set an example to others, especially when it comes to care of the planet. That is why a good quarter of our fourteen acres (we removed the orchard) is reserved for solar panels. We are not even on the grid. It is an impressive thing. It’s like we are living out of the rat race that the rest of the world plunges headlong into. As one visitor put it: “Oh the silence! I had forgotten what birdsong was like, and the sound of the breeze in the trees!” Care for the planet is our motto.

It is a privilege to set an example. Of course, once the visitors go the thump of the diesel generators drives us up the wall.

2206. Cedar of Lebanon

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What a magnificent specimen the Cedar of Lebanon was! It was near the front of Gordon’s property. Gordon thought it was maybe fifty, sixty, even a hundred years old.

It had been named “Tree of the Year” in his village. His village did that annually; name a Tree of the Year. It was a way of encouraging people to “think green”. Think conservation at every turn! That was the cry of the village. Help save the planet.

And that’s what Gordon strove to do. Some sacrifices have to be made to save the planet, although it broke his heart. He cut down the Cedar of Lebanon. It was shading his solar panels.

2147. Colour my world

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It annoyed Janet immensely that a banana was the same colour as a lemon; and an orange was the same colour as a pumpkin; and a plum was the same colour as a red onion; and an apple was the same colour as a cabbage; and so on…

“How is one expected to tell the difference?” she exclaimed. “It must be very confusing. Thank goodness I’m blind.”

1829. The birthday gift

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Dear Nora,

Thank you so much for the birthday gift. First of all I would like to say that the packaging, thank goodness, is recyclable. There’s nothing worse than getting a gift and the box it comes in is wrapped in plastic or even cellophane. I mean, what is one meant to do with it?

Yours was most thoughtfully wrapped, and the coconut fibres used as packing I can give to my garden worms that consume the few scraps I have.

I noticed that the stamps on the package weren’t fully cancel-marked by the Post Office, so I managed to steam two of them off to use again. However, once I had steamed them off I saw that possibly they had been licked, so I am going to put them in my recycle bin. Can you remember if you licked them? Thank goodness I was wearing rubber gloves before I even started with that.

The instruction booklet that came with your gift was printed on glossy paper. Really Nora! We no longer have to do things the way they were done ten years ago in the Dark Ages. What gets into manufacturers’ heads that makes them think they can print these days on glossy paper?

And the glue on the spine of the book! I know it’s an old book, but it comes from the days when glue was made using cows’ hoofs. I couldn’t bear to open it and be party to the cruel practices of our forebears. I suspect the book must have some value, but a book on bee-keeping is so insensitive. We imprison bees, in effect, and then steal the honey they make. It is a barbaric practice.

All in all, Nora, thank you once again for the recyclable packaging.

The other day, as President of the Green Party, I received a letter from the secretary of the Dyers’ Guild. In it he said that the colour green was the least biodegradable of all the dye colours, and that includes green printer’s ink. Green is a quite inappropriate colour for those who care about the health of our planet. I wrote back and said he must have better things to fill in his time than worry about non-biodegradable dyes and their environmental toxicity. Isn’t it funny how people get hung up on such unnecessary and insignificant little things?

Regards
Norman

1309. Nature Study

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Christobelle had a thing for the environment. She was as green as they come. She ate only that which was organically grown. No meat of course; and in fact not even a life-giving chicken’s egg. No insect would be purposely crushed beneath her shoe. Her porch was riddled with spiders spared by Christobelle.

She was therefore considerably dismayed when it was discovered the apples her generous neighbour had allowed her to pick for the past six years, had been sprayed each year. Sprayed! Apparently to kill some moth caterpillar. These people ate cows and sheep and pigs. Why on earth would they fuss about sinking their teeth into a little creepy-crawly? And the thought of poison having entered her body annually for the past six years filled Christobelle with stenchful repulsion. She felt quite ill. What are they taught in school these days? What happened to Nature Study as a subject?

Two nights after this discovery, Christobelle went out and sprayed insect repellent into her neighbour’s thirteen beehives. That should teach him a lesson.

1187. Clean and green

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What a go-ahead suburb Greenqueen was! For years they had cared about the environment. The streets were lined with gardens and hanging baskets. No artificial sprays used here. The council had stipulated: all was to be clean and green in Greenqueen.

And then disaster struck. There was an ant plague. Every garden, every hanging basket, every lamp post, every shop door, was alive with ants. Something had to be done.

A pest control firm was contacted. Could you come in plain clothes, in plain vehicles, in the middle of the night, and surreptitiously spray the streets with ant-killing spray?

They did that, and no one complained because no one knew.

Unfortunately, with the lack of labels everything was mistakenly sprayed with weed-killer.