I urge you to plant a tree for the jubilee

[Jasha]

in other words a trubille

and now over to our economics correspondent Peter Ohanrahanrahan

[Twit 2]

Blow up doll of The Cunt of Death, jammed on a cactus.

[SpiderChrist]

The actual Cunt of Death, swinging from an oak tree.

[idunnosomename]

maybe Phil could push up a daisy.

if he was dead

[Buelligan]

I'm going to tell you this because you made me, you triggered me, it's not even fucking whimsy.  I have a favourite tree.  That tree lives on the side of the thin lonely road that goes to my work.  Every day (when it's not the pandemic), I walk past it at least twice.  It's a green oak.  I call it Beauty.

Coming home after midnight, Beauty stands there, marking two thirds home point, all alone in the big silent valley with the big silent glowing universe singing above her.  Pat her rough skin, quiet old horse.  She is a blood vessel in both elements, sucking stars to Earth and earth to stars.  She never stops.  Deathly sun.  Rain.  Ice.  Even Fire, I've seen her stand in all her beauty and grace and patience.

In the last lockdown, last spring, some dull cunt crashed into her.  She's nearly ring-barked.  All that time, sun, silent struggle, cut to the quick and dying.  When I saw what he had wrought I cried.  Not even lying. 

Last autumn I collected her seed.  A pocketful of life.  Sheen green eggs.  Popped in pots.  And one has sprouted.  He is growing even now, Child of Beauty.  I will unleash him soon upon the Land.

[Glebe]

I'm just afraid Replies might eat it.

[Twit 2]

I'm going to tell you this because you made me, you triggered me, it's not even fucking whimsy.  I have a favourite tree.  That tree lives on the side of the thin lonely road that goes to my work.  Every day (when it's not the pandemic), I walk past it at least twice.  It's a green oak.  I call it Beauty.

Coming home after midnight, Beauty stands there, marking two thirds home point, all alone in the big silent valley with the big silent glowing universe singing above her.  Pat her rough skin, quiet old horse.  She is a blood vessel in both elements, sucking stars to Earth and earth to stars.  She never stops.  Deathly sun.  Rain.  Ice.  Even Fire, I've seen her stand in all her beauty and grace and patience.

In the last lockdown, last spring, some dull cunt crashed into her.  She's nearly ring-barked.  All that time, sun, silent struggle, cut to the quick and dying.  When I saw what he had wrought I cried.  Not even lying. 

Last autumn I collected her seed.  A pocketful of life.  Sheen green eggs.  Popped in pots.  And one has sprouted.  He is growing even now, Child of Beauty.  I will unleash him soon upon the Land.

Stick an effigy of the CoD on there yeah arse first

[bgmnts]

Oh glorious oak,
You bask, you soak,
The lifegiving rays,
For a million days,

Then some cunt crashes his Vauxhall Astra into you and you die lol

[Elderly Sumo Prophecy]

I doubt they crashed into the tree intentionally. I try and avoid them whilst driving.

[Buelligan]

This is what I thought, the fucking stupid cunt.  It's an empty straight road.  With a sole tree on it. 

[Fambo Number Mive]

Doesn't the Queen own most of the UK? Why doesn't Charles run around planting trees rather than asking us to do it?