Much

'I need to move the thingy,' says 'er.

'Give us a clue,' I says.

'You know, the thingy,' says 'er.

No, I didn't blooming know what 'er needed to move. The world? The dead stuff she just dug out of the garden? The 'edge'og 'ouse? The feelings of an 'eartless government?

"Not move it, dig it up," ssyd 'er. So she don't mean the world, the dead stuff, or the 'edge-'og house. Might still be the government, but I don't know.

"The, you know, the thingy," says 'er. "The doo-hickey, the how'syerfather, the whatnot. That big green thing."

Probably not the government then. If 'er's going to start digging up big green things, I'm off.

"The camellia," 'er says at last. "It never does much. We never get more than one or two flowers on it and there's a very pretty rhododendron behind it that can't see the light of day, so the camellia has to go."

Well, why couldn't 'er say that in the first place? What does 'er work with all day? Words, that's what. Communycating stuff. And 'er can't think of the word for a whacking great camellia thst looks 'er in the face every day. Dig it up if you like, missus, but try to remember what it is. And while you're at it, there's one garden word you really 'ave to remember, OK. It's this'un -

Gnome. Got it?

THE ARCHERS! I'm so sorry, I haven't told you anything for weeks if not months! How have you lived?

The Fairbrother brothers are trying to get everyone to buy their geese for Christmas. The Grundys, who have been selling turkeys for generations, are up in arms. Look out for poultry wars. Fortunately geese and turkeys are pretty stupid birds and won't work out how to blow each other up. For the first time I feel sorry for Helen, because Rob Tichener is turning into Svengali. If you want him pushed in the slurry pit, love, just let me know. Ruth's mother's funeral was yesterday, Jill Archer is living at Lower Loxley, Fallon and the policeman have moved in together, Phoebe's applying to Oxbridge and Kate's doing yoga.