The Man With A Long Chin's Diary

 

Posh House Gardener

7/4/98-11/4/98

7 April 1998 - POSH HOUSE GARDENER

I'm not in Hell anymore, which is probably just as well. For some reason I've got a job as a gardener for a big stately home. I'm not sure the lord and lady of the manor like me very much - they insist I wear a big cape with "S.C.U.M" stencilled on the back.

Also, the lord accused me of blowing off near his rose bush last night, and made me eat some mud as a punishment. I wouldn't have minded, but he didn't even stick around to watch me eat it.


8 April 1998 - POSH HOUSE GARDENER

I'm really not sure about being a gardener for posh people. Last night I saw the lord of the manor detonating fox cubs in the gazebo. When I tried to approach, he presented me with a leaflet which read "Blood sports demonstration by the lord of the manor. Today at 10 PM in the gazebo", and I saw that he was wearing thick mascara.

I tried to enquire as to what exactly was going on, but he just bared his teeth and hissed through them, and disappeared through a hole in the roof.


9 April 1998 - POSH HOUSE GARDENER

I'm having a real hard time being the gardener for these posh people. I was pruning the mulberry bushes last night when the lady of the manor came to offer me some tea. She'd never been nice to me before, so I made the most of the offer and graciously accepted.

It was then I realised that something funny was going on: this wasn't the lady of the manor, but a horse with a dress on. The lady of the manor had been speaking through a remote voice box attached to the horse's face.


10 April 1998 - POSH HOUSE GARDENER

The lord and lady of the manor sent me a letter last night informing me that my Easter bonus was hidden behind the gazebo. When I arrived behind the gazebo, there was nothing there but a sort of big nest. I stood, confused, for a moment, and then the lord of the manor leapt down off the gazebo into the nest.

He was dressed as a crow, with a paper cone beak and everything. He did a little dance and recited a poem about Venus. I realise now that my bonus was this impromptu Easter "show".


11 April 1998 - POSH HOUSE GARDENER

I awoke in my shed this morning to an eerie silence. I'd barely had time to come to my senses when the lord and lady of the manor burst in and started smashing Easter eggs into my face, while emitting a series of high-pitched screams.

I was so confused that I was unable to stop them from doing it, and I estimate that around 24 eggs were smashed in my face before they collapsed through exhaustion. This was never the way I anticipated spending my Easter.


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