Wednesday is D-Day.Tom the Serial Plant Killer is being dragged in for a very special assignment: he has to get on his knees and personally tidy up Caroline the Cordyline — the poor £80 beauty he murdered in cold blood back in February.My evil plan is deliciously simple.I’m going to make him gently remove every sad, brown, drooping leaf. I’m going to watch him adjust her pathetic little supports while she hangs there like a wilted Victorian heroine who’s been left in the rain for three months. He will be forced to look directly at the crime scene he created.And when he finally steps back, dusts off his hands and pretends he’s done something helpful… I’m going to lean in with the sweetest, saddest voice I can manage and say:“Bloody hell, Tom… she still looks completely miserable, doesn’t she?
Even after you’ve pulled off all her dead bits, she’s still just sulking there like she’s got one foot in the compost heap.How much longer do you think the poor girl has left to live?”Then I’ll pause, sigh dramatically and add:“She was five foot tall, lush, and absolutely perfect when she arrived…
Now look at her. What a state.”I cannot wait to watch him squirm.Caroline has been rehearsing her finest tragic side-eye for weeks. She’s ready to make him feel every single penny of that £80.This is not gardening.
This is justice.The Cordyline is out for blood.
Even after you’ve pulled off all her dead bits, she’s still just sulking there like she’s got one foot in the compost heap.How much longer do you think the poor girl has left to live?”Then I’ll pause, sigh dramatically and add:“She was five foot tall, lush, and absolutely perfect when she arrived…
Now look at her. What a state.”I cannot wait to watch him squirm.Caroline has been rehearsing her finest tragic side-eye for weeks. She’s ready to make him feel every single penny of that £80.This is not gardening.
This is justice.The Cordyline is out for blood.
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