I wander out into the front garden to find the lawn pulverised by moles. A neat trail leads from under the fence – almost exactly where the sign was placed.I stand with mouth agape. The front garden is my pride and joy. (I have low standards). Now it looks like Nagasaki after a drunken visit from Frank Spencer during the 1987 hurricane.
Furiously, I stomp down the tunnels, then prowl around for several minutes brandishing the nearest thing that lies to hand – a Stuart Surridge 333 Turbo signed personally by Graham Gooch who, in an ironic twist, does look a bit like a mole when you come to think about it.
Mr and Mrs Short Tony emerge and point and laugh a bit.
A couple of commenters the other day mentioned Jasper Carrott. I don’t know much about the chap, but I guess he did some form of mole routine. Although as I understand it he comes from Birmingham, so unless moles have developed a penchant for burrowing through concrete in order to dig up the floors of high rise flats, I suspect he might have been making things up for comic effect.
That was unworthy. Forgive me Birmingham, I am cross and am not thinking straight.
This is deadly serious.
He will pay for this.