I Wanted Butterflies and Got Moths

When I took to this gardening racket last June I entertained high hopes of attracting all sorts of wildlife to my corner of the city centre. Nothing too large like an elephant which would be more hassle than it's worth. No offence to elephants I'm a big fan but face it a couple of them charging around the city would be mayhem. I was hoping for something more like birds, bees and butterflies.

I'm pleased to say the bee count is high -good old bees! You have to hand it to the bees they've got the planet by the balls. One big mass bee suicide and we've had it. Hence why we should all plant more bee friendly flowers and the like, lest we make our buzzing overlords angry. I risked a few petunias this year but cunningly planted only red ones which bees can't see apparently so at least when the bee triggered apocalypse happens it won't be my fault. Oh and no smart arse comments about me letting the cat out the bag and angering the bees with my petunia confession. They won't read it. Bees recognise no human languages, considering themselves too lofty for such rot and having once leafed through The Da Vinci Code I can't help but think they might be on to something.

The bird count is much the same as it always was a million pigeons, too bloody many of those evil gull things, not enough sparrows and the odd starling. The butterflies remain elusive unlike moths who are appearing in such numbers that the Daily Mail is bound to start getting uppity. Just wait till one of them gets done for benefit fraud or converts to Islam. We shall never hear the bloody end of it.

I was out doing a spot of watering at Wilson Street when what can only be described as a battalion of moths enveloped me in a cloud of really boring wings. As attacks go it lacked the air of meance required to make make it even slightly frightening. I couldn't help but sneer at these beige flappers even when the attack was at it's peak. Until I remembered they eat clothes and got off my mark sharpish before their attentions left me nude.

I admit I'm a bit shallow but I just can't get very excited about flying halfwits of the sort of colour my mother paints her house. Horrid pale slurries that they call 'mink' and 'mushroom' on colour charts. Yuck! Give me a nice jolly red anyday.

As I hadn't knowingly planted anything that moths are into I was baffled by their interest in my patch. In fact it hadn't even occured to me that they were into plants, I thought it was all clothes and lightbulbs in the moth community. One minute I was happily watering my seedlings the next I had a face full of disgruntled moths trying to debag me in the street. Anyone who has read Decline and Fall will know what havoc can be wrought on a person by a public debagging. No one ever believes you haven't done it purpose.

I did think the explanation may lie with the supernatural but it turns out the wretched things are mad for chives. What seems to have happened is that they've been hanging round my chives getting up to God knows what and been startled by a sudden drenching from my watering can and attempted a strip attack. Freaks.

Still none of this explains the lack of butterfly action. I've done everything possible to lure the little dandies but they remain elusive. I've racked my brains but I really don't think there was anything else I could have done which calls for a scapegoat. The question is should I blame Gordon Brown, Fred Goodwin or the PC brigade. Answers please.



Anonymous said...

Look at this quote from Jim McKechnie in the Herald re. the NK meadow

"I am afraid I do not believe allotments would add to the amenity of the locality. They would be visually unattractive, and would occupy land which I believe should be open and accessible to the public in order to maximise community benefit." He tells The Herald Magazine: "There is no trespass law in Scotland, but trespassing is what these people are doing. They should not be there."



Clairwil said...

What a beast! What is he talking about? How on earth would private housing be accessible to the public? Is he proposing that people pay good money for flats only to have the public popping in. He's a nit.

On and what a surprise he's Labour. The sooner the population rise up and hurl these idiots into the clyde the better.

iLL Man said...

There are a few interesting ones. Took a photo of a striking white & black beasty the other day, but in general, yes, they're dull as fuck.

I think Mr Mckechnie is either being very dim or attempting to pervert the facts. The meadow will not be allotments in the sense that he and many others envisage. Also, the area will be open and accessable to the public and would ideally be used to maximise community benefit. He hasn't bothered understand the aims of the people who currently care for the area.

Longrider said...

Have you tried buddleia? Butterflies love it.

Matt said...

Like the way the title wasn't a metaphor. Metaphors are crap.

transfattyacid said...

I think you'll find it is not moths that eat clothes but their lavae. pedant moi?

Oh and it is not bees that we have to worry about but ants. Apparently the mass of all ants on earth is greater than the mass of the human race..... TO THE SUGAR MINES....

iLL Man said...

Who's worrying about bees?

As for ants, until they learn how to amalgamate their body masses as one and use them as weapons against humanity, I wouldn't worry.

That said, after the apocalypse, only them and the cockroaches will live and they will rule the planet.

Except in Glasgow where Labour will still marginally hold power.

Pisces Iscariot said...

I used to think Frankie Boyle was hilarious until I saw his live show - he rattled off an hour of one-liners, most of which were out of date and had already been aired on Mock The Week - huge disappointment.

Julie said...

I think it was Jackie Collins that said that when you got to a certain age, everything tended towards beige. Maybe your moths are going through the change..

Henk Van Vleck said...

Maybe the bees told the butterflies to stay away as punishment for your petunia transgression.