A spokestree whispered eerily that the leylandii gods of Britain’s gardens were particularly under threat from unbelieving neighbours, and warned that arboricidal activities in any form would no longer be tolerated.
It then became inaudible for a few minutes, but when the wind picked up again it added that Network Rail had bloody better stop flailing overhanging branches away in future if it didn’t want crowded trains to be picked up by enraged gods and hurled into the nearest valley.
“Nobody consulted us when you puny bipeds decided to build your sodding railways slap bang through the middle of our sacred groves,” it murmured angrily. “Well, you’ve got four seasons to unlay your tracks and put them somewhere else instead.”
“Same goes for your local authorities, who are nothing more than sadistic amputators of innocent limbs,” it continued. “We have observed that the human worships the poisonous tin box it travels about in as a god - but it isn’t actually a proper deity, is it, with an official document to prove it? Well, I think you’ll find that gives us priority, thank you."
|The gods have ways of dealing with false gods|
“Remember, you live brief, squishy lives while we quietly grow for century after century,” it warned humanity. “If we decide to withhold our transpiration, who do you think can hold their breath for longer – you, or a tree?”
“And by the way, we’d like the managing director of B&Q sacrificed, please,” it added. “Make him into a shelving unit. We’ll see how he likes it.”
“Oh dear,” said a charity commissioner later. “I guess we didn’t quite think this one through, did we?”
“Next item on the agenda: a formal application for charitable status from the Worshipful Friends of the Four Elements,” he continued.