Weedz in Obz. Stretching from the pavementz to the starz.
Mr Blobz likes John Seymour’s definition of a weed as ‘a plant growing in the wrong place.’
Our leaders are weeds, tho’ they might be honoured to be considered as plant matter. In the wrong place – government, instead of the knacker’s yard. Especially Arts and Culture Minister Lulu Xingwana, who thinks she’s human. She’s a weed.
So, figs and oaks can be weeds, depending on where they are. Some weeds tho; aren’t b-a-d, they help fix the soil for suceesive plants, and provide greenery. Mr Blobz has a lawn composed entirely of a weed – unsown and windblown – and for now, it’s in the right place.
Obz likes weedz. Some of our locals are weedy – thin, pale and pimply – and lots of weed is smoked here too.
Sometimes a spade-wielder comes along and chops them away. They leave the roots, usually. The weedz bounce back, all resentful.We have some wonderful specimens here.
Mr Blobz would like to celebrate the unintended, untended gardens on the pavements, these eezy litter traps, and their roots that eat at our foundations. Because if the roots don’t strangle us, reaching up through the tar and into the windows, it just means we’re dead already.