Monday, May 22, 2006

Say it with flowers – give her a triffid

I mow the lawn.

Strangely, before owning a house I always dreaded this distasteful manual chore, but now I have a lawn of my own I find that I rather enjoy it. So it is with mixed emotions that I read about a variety of genetically modified grass that doesn’t grow past a pre-determined length.

I must say that I’m not sold on this by a long shot. It’s bad enough having to edge past the GM tomatoes in the supermarket, all bouncing up and down in their panniers and shrieking benefits at you. The last thing you need when you leave the house every morning is to have the grass trying to start a conversation, or maybe moaning loudly about your weeding skills whenever the neighbours are in earshot.

Anyway, pushing my lawnmower around is the only exercise I get at the weekend, and I always feel better for it. If I switch to this godless freak of gardening science, I’ll lose that pleasure forever. Not to mention that happy day when I hand it off to the boys to do as soon as they are old enough.

Now if it was smokeable, or dietetic, then that would be a different matter. While we’re on the subject, why don’t they find something to stop our waists growing instead of pissing around with the grass? But that’s scientists for you – such massive intellects, but harnessed to the practicality and common sense of a stunned blowfish…


A genetically modified plant, yesterday. He’s an old soppy really – just don’t show any fear. He can smell fear…

5 comments:

Rob said...

Last april, every day for a week, the postie deposited flyers through the letterbox touting cheap deals on sit-on mowers. I live on the thirteenth floor, unfortunately. Personally, I can't fucking wait for triffids. I've got my plan all worked out. All that loafing around wathing end-of-the-world plot sci fi movies has gotta pay off sometime right?

Ivan the Terrible said...

The thirteenth floor, eh? Nothing bad ever happens on a thirteenth floor, so you're all set then. As long as they don't figure out the lifts, that is.

Try moving to a Council-owned block - the lifts will hold no fear then. Even if they work, the stench of piss will kill any plant within a hundred yards...

R. Sherman said...

Ivan, if you like grass, I've got an acre you can mow. You'll probably charge less than the guy who does it now.

Where are the Mexicans when I need them.

Cheers.

Ivan the Terrible said...

Wrestling the GM tomatoes onto the shelves at your local supermarket, I dare say. If a few get eaten in the process, who's counting? There's always more looking for work...

Rob said...

Not only the 13th floor, but no. 169 which is like thirteen thirteens...